


Somewhere In The North Woods

by Entropyrose



Series: North Woods Werewolves [1]
Category: Punisher, daredevil - Fandom
Genre: Anthropomorphic, Death of side character, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy, Fratt - Freeform, IronCage, M/M, Matt's Mom dies, Mention of Character Death, Violence, Werewolf AU, Werewolf Frank Castle, Werewolves, fake town, made up town
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 21:02:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 46,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13889064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entropyrose/pseuds/Entropyrose
Summary: On a cold rainy fall day, a young college student and his mother get into an accident that's anything but. Matt awakens to find himself rescued by a stranger in the woods. And here in the sleepy little Northern Michigan town of Ypsieck, nothing is what it seems.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: Ypsieck is not a real town. Matt's Mom dies very early on, but she is considered a side-character. This is really all just fantasy and trash, so please enjoy and be kind <3

_“Somewhere in the north woods a creature walks upright. And the best advice you may ever get is…don’t go out at night.” –excerpt from The Legend Of the Dog -Man_ _by Steve Cook_  

 

Chapter 1 

 

Matt had gotten used to the idea of having to be shuttled around for the rest of his life. It didn’t mean he was completely helpless; just that he’d most likely never completely escape the watchful shadow of his ever-vigilant parents. His blindness had left him with seemingly superhuman senses, quick reflexes and a gift for athletics, but one thing he couldn’t manage around was the inability to drive.  

 

His Mom didn’t seem to mind. She’d never really complain about anything he’d ask of her, and he supposed it was just a part of her good nature and partly guilt over what happened. As if she had anything to do with it. She wasn’t there. She couldn’t have stopped it even if she had been, but his Mom had a habit of bearing the weight of the world on her narrow shoulders. And she did it with a smile.  

 

“How did practice go?”  

 

“It was fine.” Matt angled his face flush with the passenger’s side window, feeling the cool fall breeze from the crack at the top and imagining the rows of trees all blurring together as they zoomed by.  Their sleepy little town of Ypsiec ( _pronounced Yip-sick_ ) was nearly an hour’s drive from the dojo, and his Mom gladly made the trip like clockwork three days a week in the months he was home from College— she’d work on her book at the local café or get her nails done while she waited, then they’d go home together just in time to make dinner. They'd always eat alone---Dad never showed up until much later, sometimes not till five or six in the morning. Mom always said he was married to the Department.  

 

It was routine, but it was a comforting change from the bustle and madness that was New York. He liked both, and in a way he was grateful he’d never have to choose between the two. The crunch of leaves signaled the change, the smell of pumpkins and cinnamon hung ripe in the air, and in a few short weeks (that always went by too quickly) he would be heading back to law school. 

 

Somewhere between towns it began to rain. It pattered gently against the windshield and mixed with the rhythm of the wipers as his Mom brought him up-to-date on Mr. and Mrs. Brueing’s new grandbaby.  

 

Just like a typical “small town”, everybody knew everybody and those who entered Ypsiec rarely left it for good. They liked to say that nothing bad ever happened to anybody who didn’t deserve it. Of course, reality is never quite as kind. Matt wiped a few flecks of rainwater from his eyes before rolling the window up the rest of the way.  

 

This was the first vehicle his family ever owned that wasn’t a Crown Vic. As Sheriff of Cherry Water County, his Dad would simply keep ones too old to run down a sports car (as if any of those ever showed up in Ypsiec) and run them until they died. Fast forward a few years prior, his Mom had said enough was enough and went out and got herself an almost-new Honda. She told Matt the color was red because she “couldn’t stand driving a black or white car anymore”. It was nice enough—it had a port for Matt’s Ipod and heated seats and only blew cold air for the first five minutes in winter. It was his Mom’s pride and joy; it smelled of leather conditioner and fabreeze and the sanitary wipes she forced him to use after every drive-through order. She had more than earned it in Matt’s opinion; as a romance novelist working out of a diaper bag and being a cop’s wife for close to thirty years, she had every right to a little slice of happiness that was all her own.  

 

The road wasn’t exactly smooth: it hadn’t been properly paved in years and Northern Michigan weather was brutal at best, and money was tight, leaving the county with little more than silly putty to fix the crater-sized potholes. His Mom weaved in and out expertly, the gently used all-weather tires humming along, doing their best against the slippery onslaught.  

 

Matt’s attentions were suddenly pulled away from his mother’s animated voice as she relayed the story of the Bruening Baby by something moving amongst the rows of trees as they plodded along in the smallish SUV. Impossibly, it seemed to be keeping pace with them. Not wanting to seem too conspicuous (it wasn’t unusual for Matt’s senses to alert to something less than threatening) he cracked the window a bit, ignoring the splatters of rain coming in. A pungent, earthy smell was drawn in with it, one that instantly made Matt’s stomach turn. Another moving mass, this one slightly further ahead, joined up with the first one, keeping up effortlessly with the vehicle. He swallowed down his suspicion, his lips parting, hand reaching out to touch her arm and turning his ear towards the sound. “Mom…”  

 

Then it was in front of the car. A scream rang out with the screeching of drowned wheels and the smell of brake fluid as the massive body swallowed the road behind it. Matt lunged for the wheel but was thrown back against the chair as the car careened down the an embankment. After rolling several times, the vehicle and the screaming stopped, the crunch of metal ending in one violent groan.  

 

It all went black for about a second. When his senses returned to him, he was hanging upside down. He clawed at the seatbelt biting into his flesh, ignoring the warm wetness running into his eyes and over his lips. He called out to her again--- and gained silence in return. He kicked away the duffel still wedged between his legs and the dash, fishing out a small knife to saw himself free. He braced for impact, landing in a heap between the front seats and crawling to her lifeless body. He had to try and slow his own breathing, to not panic. After all, he could not help her if he himself was beyond critical thought. After gently tugging on her hanging, limp arms and receiving no response, he felt her neck and found a faint pulse. He wondered for a moment if cutting her down would cause further injury, but he spooned his body and carefully sawed away at the seat belt until his Mom’s limp form landed in his arms.   

 

The pungent odor returned, this time without restraint, blowing in through the shattered windows and assaulting his every sense. Heavy, padded footsteps fell in succession around the wreck as he gathered her in his arms, feeling desperately for a sign of life. She was contorted unnaturally, her narrow limbs hanging at jagged edges. Bones broken, skin torn. Matt felt a lump rise in his throat. He found it hard to focus on the danger outside while his mother was fading away in his arms. “Mom? Mom….come on…”  

He bit down a whimper, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill out as the largest creature drew closer, its padded paws landing heavy on the rumpled cassis as it leaned in. If Matt had ever smelled death before, he could have sworn this was it. The pungent odor was more distinct now that the creature was closer, and Matt sucked in a breath. There was little doubt the thing could see him. Matt’s eyes stared into the black abyss that was his sight, his hearing filling in the gaps. Even though it was in a crouched position, staring through the shattered window, meeting Matt face to face, it was positively massive. Matted fur clung to its back and legs in solid clumps. When it opened its mouth, inhaling deeply the smell of burning fuel and blood that surrounded them, its hot breath blew against Matt’s cheeks, accompanied by row upon row of spike-like teeth. Had Matt’s blood not frozen instantly in his veins, he would have hurled. The smell was overpowering.  

 

A low grunt came from somewhere behind the beast. Matt did his best to shield his mother as a creature of the same shape and stature pushed its mighty head in, effectively moving the other one out of the way, no doubt for a better sniff. Against his better judgement, Matt threw his arms tight around his mother, rolling them both into a fetal ball and kicking against the bent door frame to scooch them further into the vehicle and away from the roaming, elongated snout of the intruder.   

 

Michigan had its share of wolves, though Matt had been lucky enough until this point not to encounter any in the wild. He thought them smaller, though, and if his Dad’s hunting buddies were to be believed, supposedly more afraid of humans than humans were of them. 

 

Maybe they were hungry. Matt’s heart jumped at that as he shook his mother, trying to wake her. Oh god, please, let them not be hungry. Maybe they were just curious. Nothing could explain the fact that they smelled and sounded to Matt exactly like the creatures that had been following their now-totaled SUV, because he didn’t know of anything alive that could run 55mph.  

 

The second wolf was slightly leaner and a head shorter than the hairy one, and he didn’t smell as bad or seem as unkempt. He pushed his slender head through the broken window, seemingly unbothered by Matt’s presence.  

 

“Get!,” he barked, letting a foot fly in the wolf’s general direction. Undeterred, the wolf let out a grunt and angled its head in further. “No, no, no, no…” Matt began to panic. They weren’t going away, and a foot to the face, no matter how skilled, wasn’t going to cut it. That’s when Matt remembered… his hand shot up towards the dash, two fingers punching open the glove box. Something heavy and cool landed on his mother’s shoulder. He fumbled with the barrel, shaking hands grasping ahold of the grip as he slid the hammer back. “Don’t….don’t make me…”  

 

Matt didn’t believe in killing. He had never openly argued with his Dad about it, and he certainly saw the benefits of well-regulated, humane hunting, but it would be such a shame to destroy anything just because it was curious.  

 

Almost as if the creature was agitated, it let out a sharp puff of air through its nostrils and bucked, slamming its back into the floorboards. The chassis groaned and rocked, and Matt tried desperately to keep himself and his mother upright. He swung the pistol wildly, letting out a shout. Maybe it would scare the thing. Maybe it would alert a passerby. The highway was the only viable way into Ypsiec…not that anyone came that often, or left for that matter.  

 

This only further disturbed the thing. It rattled its hackles and opened its mouth, letting out an indignant snort as its paw flew across the space between them, effectively swiping the gun out of Matt’s hand. He let out a startled yelp and clutched his wrist as blood sprang free and the weapon clattered to the rooftop and out of reach.  

 

Matt kicked with all his might, but the claws kept coming. He buried his face in his mother’s neck, clinging to her tightly as he fought to save them both. If only she’d wake up. She could run back to the road, wave down help. Or at least get out of there! Matt wondered briefly what the scene would be like for his Dad when he got the news. Or maybe they’d disappear and never be found. He couldn’t do that. He had to fight. To survive.  

 

With every muscle in his tattered body screaming against him, he laid his Mom as gently as he could on the bowed roof of the SUV and rolled towards the creature. Maybe he could distract it.  

 

“Mom!” He screamed, as loud and as long as he could, legs flying against fur-covered muscle. His pants were instantly torn to shreds, the blood slicking his shoes and causing him to slide around as he forced his way out of the cab. “Mom! Please! You’ve---you’ve got to---!”  

 

There were more than just the two. More had come since the struggle began, and somewhere between trying like hell to protect his mother and scare off the invaders, he hadn’t noticed that both windows had been blown clean off. More creatures followed until they were surrounding the wreck.  

 

A throaty rumble came from one of the creatures. And though it absolutely could not happen, inexplicably a voice coming from somewhere inside the beast said, “We want her.”  

 

Before his mind could catch up, he was being dragged outside the circle by a set of razor-wire fangs, helpless to do anything but witness as the pack converged on his Mother’s prize Honda. It wasn’t long before a slender, lifeless body was pulled out and tossed into a heap among the leaves. Matt tried to scream, but his lungs were empty, crushed by the weight of the paws on his back, grinding him into the wet ground.  

 

The rancid one hovered nearby, turning his mighty head to the smaller one. And Matt was now completely convinced he was hallucinating when it parted its gaping, fanged mouth and spoke. “What of the boy?”  

 

“Hmph,” The slender one dragged his claws down the length of Matt’s back, Matt’s shallow, pained cries muffled into the brush, every bone in his body flattened beneath the crushing weight of the beast. “Accidents happen. It’s a shame, really.” 

 

Matt’s lungs burned for air as the creature raised a paw, his claws like talons, ready to strike. He never got the chance. Before Matt could make sense of what was happening, he was flying backwards across the trees, landing in a thick pile of wet brush as it let out a startled, angry howl. Something much larger, much stronger, had slammed into the side of the thin wolf and was in the process of ramming it into the ground.  

 

Matt’s first thought was to run, instinctually curling his body inward, gathering his legs beneath himself even as they buckled. He couldn’t get his body to cooperate. Everything felt heavy and useless, his mind going blank from the loss of blood.  

 

The picture in his mind’s eye blinked in and out, visions of the massive beast before him who now stood on hind legs and whose roar rumbled the very ground. He succeeded in running the smaller creatures off, tails planted firmly between their legs. 

 

But now, it was coming back for Matt.  

 

All signs of Matt’s mother were long gone. Alone with his fading consciousness and his very doom looming above him, Matt slumped to the ground, praying it would all be over quickly. Humanely, like a hunter would.  

 

He wasn’t awake long enough for the outcome.  

 

 * * * * *  

 

A crackling flame. 

 

Work boots on a hard wood floor. 

 

The warmth of the fire spreading across his body, even under a stiff wool blanket. 

 

Matt moaned.  

 

It smelled a lot like the hunting lodge his grandfather had built. Old, musty, and perfect. Matt shifted beneath the covers, his tired, torn body soothed by the sensation of freshly laundered linen against his skin. His eyes parted sleepily, head too heavy to lift from the plush pillow beneath.  

 

Echoes of screeching metal and burning brakes and a sharp scream entered his memory, and he bolted upright, chest heaving, senses darting around the room. “Mom?! Mo---" 

 

Another presence entered his radar, fizzling in as his consciousness awakened, rounding the ragged couch where he sat and grabbing onto his shoulders to press him back into the cushions. “Easy, easy…” The voice was soothing enough, though not instantly recognizable, and Matt scrambled through the rolodex of his brain even as he fought back against the gentle coaxing of the calloused hands. “You’re okay, kid. You’re safe.” 

 

Before Matt could care to know just who this man was and what Matt was doing on his couch, there was a far more pressing matter to attend to. “Where is my mother?”  

 

The long, uncomfortable pause that followed made his heart sink and his stomach quiver as the man pursed his lips. Matt could easily sense that the man was looking in any direction other than Matt’s eyes. “I don’t know.” The man’s heartbeat skipped once—not exactly the truth, not exactly a lie—before returning to its steady thrum.  

 

Matt’s body started telling him how stupid those quick movements had been shortly after his mind caught up. He threaded his long fingers through the scratchy blanket, balling it into fists, trying to concentrate through the sudden pain. Dull, sharp, fast and slow—it was everywhere. Matt worried his bottom lip and, determining the fatigue had the better of him, reluctantly slumped back against the cushions. Among his other concerns were the fresh clothes he had on—they smelled strongly of soap and sunlight and hung in loose ripples off his slight frame. He ran a hand down the flannel fabric and beneath the blanket to the boxer-briefs below. Heat instantly rushed to his face. “Did…did you?”  

 

The man let out an indignant huff. “Wasn’t about to let you bleed all over my sofa.”  

 

Matt blinked back, feeling a tinge of guilt for being so ungrateful. Rather than dwell on the thought that the man who dressed his naked, unconscious form was the one who most likely bathed and bandaged him too, he decided to change the subject. “Where are we?”  

 

The man paused again, this time to sip from a mug he had placed on the coffee table. It smelled black and burnt. “Not far.”  

 

Matt frowned. “From where?”  

 

The man let out a groan as if all this small talk was boring him. Matt supposed that if he was living out in the middle of nowhere (all Matt’s radar could pick up on was trees and small forest creatures) he was probably either adverse to company or simply not used to it, and since he knew nothing about him or this place or how to get back home he had to tread carefully. Though, he supposed, a guy who’d bother to find an unconscious person (wherever he’d found him) and nurse him back to health was probably not a bad guy. He tried again, softer this time, willing his nerves to settle and pushing all other thoughts to the back of his mind. “I’m sorry for all the questions.” (not really) “I…just. I don’t remember…”  

 

The man grunted again, though it was softer this time, and rounded the couch, the sound of his boots reverberating on the unfinished wood. He returned with a piping hot bowl of what smelled like some kind of chili. Matt’s nose wrinkled at the familiar stench of meat. He hadn’t eaten the stuff in years, and after nearly becoming a main course himself, wasn’t really keen on picking up the habit again.  

 

“Pig.”  

 

“What?”  

 

“It’s pig,” the man reiterated, setting it and a large spoon down on the table.  

 

A, unenthusiastic groan eked out. “I’m…I’m a…”    

 

“Shit,” the man sneered, his velveteen voice suddenly gaining a gravelly edge. “You tellin’ me you a vegetarian or some shit?”  

 

Momentarily forgetting his delicate situation and his Dad’s favorite saying (something about burning bridges) he quirked an eyebrow, stiffening his back. “There a problem with that?”  

 

The man’s hands fiddled with the change in his pocket, examining Matt incredulously. “It’s pig. ‘ Cuz kale and quinoa don’t do shit for inch-thick gashes and busted ribs.”  

 

Matt decided in that moment he did not like this stranger, even if he had saved his life. Which Matt wasn’t sure of. He looked in the exact opposite direction of that bowl and let out a soft huff.  

 

“I got some stuff to do,” he muttered. Matt’s ears pricked up at the sound of keys jingling as the man swiped them off the counter behind Matt’s head. “You stay here. Rest up.” He added, with emphasis, “And _eat_.”  

 

“You’re not going to tell me who you are?,” Matt offered, following his exit with a quizzical stare.  

 

Without turning back, the man with the heavy boots murmured, “Frank.”  

 

“Frank…” Matt tried the name on the tip of his tongue, as if it might strike some chord with his memories and connect the dots. “Frank, I….I have to get home. I don’t know where my Mom is. We….we had an accident. We went down an embankment, and she…”  

 

“Not till you’ve had a chance to heal.”  

 

“At least you could tell me where we are?”  

 

“Fuck, kid, you sure ask a lot of questions. We’ll talk when I get back. Stay here.”  

 

The creek of an old wooden door opening made Matt start. As precarious as he was about this “Frank” guy, the prospect of being left alone in the middle of god-knows-where frightened him even more. “Wait, couldn’t you take me with—” His attempt to climb over the back of the couch was stopped short by the pull of something cold and metal on his legs. “…you….--?” His heart leapt into his throat as he kicked off the covers, revealing a pair of rusty shackles. Attached in the middle was a chain with links the size of hockey pucks that trailed down and disappeared beneath the cushions. “The fuck is this???” He scrambled as far from his bindings as his pain tolerance would allow, giving his legs an experimental tug. Beneath the wooden frame of the couch, a dull “Clunk” resounded with each yank.  

 

“I said stay here ,” the man named Frank murmured as Matt clawed desperately at the chains. “You need to get better first.”  

 

“F-first??” Matt could hardly concentrate. The room was spinning suddenly, as if the walls were shrinking in on him.  

 

“There’s a bucket in the corner to do your business. Don’t piss on my couch.”  

 

“So, what? Now I’m your…your---?” Matt couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, feeling his face blush redder as all the fitting terms entered his thoughts.  

 

“What? Oh, don’t flatter yourself, princess.” Frank’s voice had a lilt to it, as if he were…was he _smiling?_  

Fear quickly turned into rage and Matt jerked with all his might at the chains, even as Frank let out a chuckle underneath his breath. “I’ll be back soon. Eat something, will ya? Whenever you’ve calmed the hell down.” With that, the heavy door closed and bolted shut, taking with it Matt’s only resource for the outside world.  

 

He stewed in silence for a few moments, chewing away at his lip until it was bloody. After giving the chain another harsh yank as if punishing it for not breaking in his hands, he curled up into a tight ball to sulk. He threw the blanket back over himself. “Hmmph. What a prick.” The clothes smelled like him. It wasn’t a bad scent, though Matt couldn’t say the same for the man who owned them. In fact, the mixture of wild lavender, wood smoke and bergamot was almost attractive. He felt his face flush at the thought, and shifted to accommodate the growing bulge between his legs.  

 

The fire was still warm and it welcomed him back in, relaxing his spent muscles and dulling his fluttering nerves. The piping hot bowl of chili beckoned to him, (even if It wasn’t vegan), his rumbling stomach betraying him. It wasn’t long before he begrudgingly cradled the bowl in his lap and lifted a half-full spoon to his nose, breathing in the spices. It tasted twice as good as it smelled— _damn hi_ _m—_ and Matt allowed himself a moment to marvel how a man who obviously lived so far from civilization could be such an established chef.  

 

Once his belly was full and he hunkered back down into the covers that had been warmed by the fireplace, his thoughts quickly returned to his mother. How much time had passed? Had it been hours? Days? His Dad, no doubt, was sick with worry. He kicked at the annoying chain that trailed between his legs, furious that he had been so weak as to pass out. He should have saved her. And now….  

 

He wiped away the wetness that fell onto the pillow as he slowly drifted into a fitful sleep.  

 

* * * * * 

 

It was fifteen minutes past five when Frank’s Ford rolled into the gravel driveway of Golden Meadows Senior Home. “Ypseick’s Premier Place to Die” was the running joke. Frank didn’t see it that way.  Gathered in the dining room was Cherry Water County’s history—gems of knowledge and pillars of the community, enjoying their evening meal. Frank often wondered if he would ever live long enough to see himself with white hair, and over the past few years he’d been graced with a peppering of silver at his temples. He never thought he’d even make it that far.  

 

“Hey, it’s Frankie!” An old man with red suspenders and the brightest smile Frank had ever seen threw up his arthritic hands, forsaking his bowl of canned peaches to coil his arms around him for a hug.  

 

“Hey, George,” Frank greeted, flashing him an equally gracious smile. He high-fived old Roger, who always sat to George’s left because that was his good ear. Frank loved everyone here but these two were his favorites. “Keepin this guy out of trouble?,” he added, giving George a gentle jab to the arm.  

 

“Ya kidding me? What fun would that be?”  

 

Alice Ganmer, who was always impeccably dressed, gave Frank a wink and wiggled her fingers at him. “There’s that handsome Castle Boy, ” she said as he came over to receive his obligatory peck on the cheek. “When are you going to marry me?” 

 

“Soon as that check clears, Allie.”  

 

She clasped her bejeweled hands together, throwing her glittering laugh high into the air.  

 

The history of Ypsieck was kept safe and secure in the very best facility the town could buy. After all, every small town knows that the best way to keep a secret hidden is to put it right out in the open. Frank approached a freckled girl as she passed with an armful of plates, touching her lightly on the shoulder. “Where’s Billy?”  

 

She searched his eyes for a moment, her nervousness showing plainly, before nodding down a corridor. Frank thanked her, his pace picking up speed as he stalked down the hall.  

 

He spotted him from the slit in the doorway and watched silently as Billy helped a wheelchair-bound man get ready. It always amazed him that the same hands who committed such filth could be so caring. He smiled down at the patient with those gleaming black eyes and for just a moment Frank didn’t completely hate him. The moment their eyes met, Billy’s expression froze in place, his eyes losing their fire. “Wondered when you’d show up,” he murmured.  

 

Frank nodded towards the door at the end of the hall, then disappeared.  

 

Frank tapped the code in and waited on the small deck beyond the door. The sun had just begun its decline in the sky and he felt the familiar prickle along his spine. It always began at the nape of his neck and spread downward, feeding his very bones with a surge of electricity. The gnawing hunger in his belly wouldn’t begin till near sundown, but he’d used up the last of his kill for the chili: he’d need to swing by the supermarket before he headed back home.  

 

It wasn’t long before the door code chimed and Billy slid out, pressing his lithe body to the brick wall behind him and letting out a dramatic moan. “I never get tired of this.” 

 

Frank bit into his tongue. Name calling won’t help the situation, even if Billy is a sadistic, self-serving son of a whore. He’d have to stay focused. He wasted no time in wrapping one wide hand around Billy’s throat and squeezing down, his eyes burning into him, reveling in the sharp squeak of Billy’s lungs as they scraped for air. “Where is she?”  

 

“Wh…where’s the boy?” Billy chimed, his lips curled into a devious grin. “Bet you’re just his big hero…huh?”  

 

Frank shoved off him, letting him cough and gasp his way to recovering. He could smell her all over him. The sun peaking over the trees fed his senses, throwing the scent of her blood and bile like a painting all across Billy’s lips.  

 

Billy smiled when he saw the realization dawning on Frank’s face, and smacked his lips for added effect. “Not gonna lie, Frankie. That scrawny little kid of hers would have made the perfect appetizer. So, what, are you saving him all for yourself? Finally got tired of the taste of pig meat?”  

 

Frank chuckled bitterly. “You’re stupider than I thought. Jack’s going to kill you. You know this.”  

 

Billy stiffened, drawing in a deep breath from the bottom of his chest and narrowing his eyes pridefully. “It was a pack decision and there’s not shit he can do about it. He knew the risks. We’ve been warning him for years. Mary was getting too close. Learning too goddamn much. She had to go. We had plans to take out the little halfling pup, too. But you just had to step in and “save the day”, huh Frankie boy?”  

 

“Wow…” Frank ground down on the inside of his mouth, pursing his lips and balling his fists and planting his feet and doing everything in his power not to have it out with him right then and there. “You really are delusional.” 

 

Billy shook his head slowly, his voice nearing a whisper as he said, “No, Frank. You knew what was going to happen the second you walked away. _I’m_ Alpha now. And what I say is law. Don't you fucking dare get pissed at me for doing what you didn't have the _balls_ to do.”  

 

Frank let out a growl that sounded more like a bark, throwing his head and trying desperately to ignore the gnawing rage building inside of him. His fingers itched. 

 

“But it doesn’t mean we can’t go back.” Billy’s voice softened suddenly, gaining its usually sultry lilt. One finger flicked out to run the length of Frank’s earlobe.  

 

Frank shivered.  

 

“C’mon, baby. It’d be just like old times. I mean, you don’t really even remember what we were fighting about anymore, do you?”  

 

"You're a killer, Billy." Frank stayed perfectly still, eyes trained on the dying sun as Billy’s lips leveled with his jugular, his slender, athletic frame not hidden in the least beneath his dark blue scrubs. The memory of that body pressed against his made him swallow hard.  

 

“You can be my alpha again,” Billy offered, the finger playfully roaming around his ear dropping lower, lower, dipping into Frank’s pronounced clavicle and the divot between his pecks. “You can take it all back. Our pack, our territory.” The finger tapped once over his heart. “Me.”  

 

Frank swatted the hand away, sweeping Billy into a bicep slicer and flattening his face to the bricks. “I've had about enough of your mouth!”  

 

“Ohh,” Billy let out a taunting moan that dissolved into laughter. “Ohhh sweet Frank, you’re still not over me. But I mean, who could blame you?” Another corrective slam cut his celebration short, squeezing out a groan from deep within his chest.  

 

“Here’s the deal,” Frank growled, his teeth gnashing ever closer to Billy’s ear. “I’m gonna let the kid go back to his Dad, and you’re not going to fucking _touch_ him.” 

 

“Why…nnnng…. So soft on the kid?”  

 

Frank paused, staring down at the back of Billy’s skull. His hackles had already begun to grow. Frank released him with a violent shove, sending him toppling to the stone slab. Billy let out a violent hiss as he hit, landing perfectly on all fours. “You’ve done enough,” Frank muttered. He turned towards the gravel driveway, to his waiting truck.  

 

“I did it for _us!,_ ” Billy shouted as he recovered, brushing off his knees. “For the _pack_! I wasn't going to let some pathetic human ruin a good thing! That’s what we’ve got, Frank! A _Good Thing!_ And I’m trying to keep it that way!”  

 

“Sure, Billy.” Frank slammed the door shut, letting the roar of the engine drown out Billy’s cries as he turned the key. “Whatever you got to tell yourself.”  

 

* * * * * 

 

Sergeant Cage stared down the embankment where the tire marks ended, taking a slow drag off the last of his cigarette as he eyed the wreckage at the bottom. They'd passed it by twice. It had been so far off the road that they'd nearly missed it altogether. It had rained pretty steadily the night prior, and the road was still wet and dark that the streaks had been barely visible from his patrol car.  

 

"Is it..?" His curly-haired partner began, as he trotted to his side to follow his sullen gaze. "Aw no..."  

 

Luke's heart sank even as he watched his partner and mate of fifteen years careen down the hill, slipping on the wet fallen leaves as he scrambled to the vehicle. As much as the sight affected Luke, he was absolutely crushed for the Chief. The dank smell of wet dog still hung in the air, and Luke sniffed and snarled softly. "Don't touch anything."  

 

"No no no---" Danny paused his pawing around to flash an incredulous glare back up the hill. "Wh-what are you talking about?"  

 

"It's a crime scene," he stated matter-of-factly. 

 

"You don't know that!" Danny dug around the sides of the door, scrambling inside the interior as if gasping for air, arms and legs thrashing as he turned the empty cab inside out. "You don't know that! Maybe they just---uuugh, god...it reeks."  

 

"Hmph." Luke ground the stub of smoldering ash beneath his boot, flexing his jaw as he slowly shook his head. "Billy kept talking about it. Said Mary was getting too nosey. Asking too many questions. Though I guess who wouldn't after spending close to thirty years with someone you never see at night?" Speaking of, Luke thought as he glanced down at his watch, it was getting to be that time again. The hackles on his back stood upright as the sun peaked through the bare trees.  

 

"We've got to get back to Chief!," Danny shouted. "We've got to tell him--"  

 

Luke shook his head. "There's no time right now. We can talk about it once night falls and we meet up with the Clan." Without waiting for a reply, he started walking back to the patrol car. There was a rustle behind him as Danny began making his way back up. Reluctant as Luke knew he was, there was little time to waste; they had to get back to the station and to the meeting spot as soon as possible. Besides, they'd be able to search better once they'd reached true form.  

 

Luke wasn’t alpha, so it was hard to say how tonight was going to go. The Chief had spent the entire day in a panic—Luke supposed he would, too, if he woke up and his family was gone.  

 

Danny waited until the car door shut before saying what they were both thinking. "You don't think the Castle Clan--?"  

 

Luke shook his head. "It's the _Russo_ Clan now," he corrected, punching the car into Drive and making a "U" turn for the Station. "And I don't pretend to know what Billy's capable of, now that Frank's let him off-leash."  

 

Danny made a concerned murmur and adjusted his cap. "I wish Frank'd come back."  

 

"Yeah," Luke muttered. "Me too." The Northern Clans had sworn off human meat for decades. Not only was it the ethical thing to do, it greatly cut down on the Authorities getting nosing around for evidence  on unsolved disappearances and consequently controlled the wildlife population. Luke hoped Billy hadn't been so stupid as to revert to his baser instincts, against the family of one of their own, no less! Still, he wasn't stupid enough to believe that Mary would crash her prize SUV on a perfectly straight piece of road right next to a Were-den. Too many coincidences.  

 

"And poor Matt--"  

 

"That's enough," Luke snapped. Danny jumped. "Sorry...look, we can come back once we've Changed, alright? We'll look for them all night if we have to. We'll find them. Alright?"  

 

"Okay," Danny muttered, folding his arms in front of his chest and turning to stare out the window.  

 

Luke bit the inside of his lip. He'd worry about Danny later. For now, he was going to spend the ride back to the station thinking of how he was going to break it to the Chief without starting a war... but maybe, at this point, war was inevitable.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt makes his escape, resulting in a midnight ride beyond his wildest imagination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you for hanging in there with me. This is going to be a story unlike anything I've ever written. It's dense storyline will take some time getting through, but I'm committed to let the muses led the way. I reallyhope you enjoy.<3
> 
> I posted two chapters in a row because I didn't want to get stuck at the sad parts!

_ 15 years earlier…. _

  
  


Matthew waited for the throaty rumble of his Dad's cruiser to disappear down the gravel driveway before slipping down the banister and padding into the kitchen. The familiar chop of the keyboard as his mother typed away echoed in the small space, resounding off the linoleum floor and bare walls. Matt had always found the sound annoying before his accident, but now it joined the myriad of sensory memories that reminded him that he was safe, he was home. 

 

There hadn't been a big fight this time: just the usual questions, ones that irritated his Dad and got his mother no closer to understanding the man. Matt had pressed his ear to his bedroom door, heard the smack of a cold kiss being shared between the two, and his Mom muttering a ritual farewell before the front door swung shut and it's deadbolt slid into place. Dad always insisted she keep the door locked. Matt didn't know why. Their town had always been safe and quiet, tucked away from the troubles and cares of a crazy world, and with his Dad at the helm of the Cherry Water Police, they were safest of all. 

 

“Matthew,” came the gentle rebuke. “Honey, what are you doing up?”

 

Matt climbed into his Mother’s lap, the rubber bottoms of his pajamas gripping onto her bare legs. He stationed himself in front of the keyboard, resting his head on her arm. “Don’t know. Just couldn’t sleep.”

 

She let out a thoughtful him, stroking back his feather-soft hair to place a kiss on his temple. “Is it the new glasses?”

 

Matthew chewed on his answer before shaking his head slowly. “Nah.” 

 

His mother let out a weary sigh as she leaned back from her work to wrap her arms around him. She was a lean woman, with arms the width of sticks and Matt was always surprised at the power in them. 

 

“Mama,” he muttered. 

 

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

 

“You know Daddy loves us, right?” 

 

His mother forced a smile then, her heartbeat trimming just a little faster. “Of course, sweetie…” There was an unmistakable lilt of astonishment in her voice. “Wh-why do you…?”

 

Matthew straightened on her lap, turning to face her with a squared jaw and a proud look. “Because Daddy says while he’s gone, I’m the man of the house and I have to take care of you.”

 

His mother smiled softly, chucking him under the chin. “We take care of each other,” she corrected. 

 

“Where do you think he goes?”

 

“I...I don’t know, sweetie. Back to the station I suppose. Daddy has a lot of work to do.” Even to Matt’s seven-year old brain, it sounded a lot like his mother was trying to convince herself, and it wasn’t working. For either of them. The Station was like a second home to anyone who belonged to it--cops and their families sticking together through thick and thin. Still, Matthew couldn’t figure why his Dad had to spend practically every night there. 

 

The conversation died into silence from there, with Matt leaning back against his mother’s breast, listening to the steady thrum beneath her ribcage as she continued typing. 

 

It was that sound in particular that could lull his overactive senses into a deep and abiding sleep, but not tonight. The less and less they saw of his Dad, the more and more Matt realized that a beating heart didn’t pound as fast or as hard as a breaking one. 

 

* * * * * 

 

_ Hey there little Red Riding Hood _

_ You sure are lookin’ good _

_ You’re everything a big bad wolf could want _

_ What big eyes you have _

_ The kind of eyes that drive some wolves mad _

_ Just to see that you don’t get chased  _

_ I think I ought to walk with you for a ways.  _

_ What full lips you have  _

_ They’re sure to lure someone bad _

_ So until we get to Grandma’s place _

_ I think you ought to walk with me to be safe _

 

_ I’m gonna keep my sheep suit on _

_ Till I’m sure that you’ve been shown  _

_ That I can be trusted _

_ Walkin in the woods with you _

 

_ Little Red Riding Hood  _

_ I’d like to hold you if I could  _

_ But you might think I’m a big bad wolf so I won’t.  _

_ What a big heart I have--the better to love you with _

_ Little Red Riding Hood,  _

_ Even bad wolves can be good _

_ I’ll try to be satisfied  _

_ Just to walk close by your side _

  
  


_ I’m gonna keep my sheep suit on  _

_ Till I’m sure that you’ve been shown _

_ I can be trusted  _

_ Walking in the woods with you…  _

 

_ \---Sam the Sham and The Pharohs _

 

_ * * * * * _

 

Like  _ hell  _ was Matt going to stay put!!! 

 

He’d been working on the damn chains for hours, working his fingers bloody trying to pry the thick steel brackets off. It didn’t help that his ribs screamed at him every time he bent over, and he was beginning to get a pounding headache just from the shear stress of being locked up. What exactly was this guy planning? He wasn’t a good guy, of that Matt was sure. You don’t *help* someone out of a jam by dragging them off to your hidden cabin, stripping them down, bandaging them up without their permission, and then tying them up to your couch while you leave to go chop wood or harvest bark or whatever it is hermits do! 

 

Letting out a cry of exasperation, he slammed the clasps to the floor and delivered a killing blow to the nearest cushion. Mystery man could show up anytime, and the thick grouping of trees that surrounded the cabin severely dampered Matt’s sonar. What was worse, he had to pee. 

 

“Fuck.” 

 

Kicking at a stray chain, Matt slid off the couch and onto the cold wooden floor, detecting the small plastic bucket the stranger had told him about. Reluctantly, he managed to bring himself out of his (no, the  _ Stranger’s _ ) boxer-briefs. He tried hard not to think too much on that thought, but the extra added room in the crotch was instantly noticeable. Unable to stop the heat from rushing to his face, he grumbled and did his business as quickly as possible. It was the only object besides the couch itself and a pile of thin blankets that the chain allowed him to reach. Careful not to tip it, he stuffed himself back in and felt a thin metal wire running along the top when he went to place it back. He let out a little gasp of joy, feeling his way to the holes that stationed it to either side, and it came off almost too easily in his hand. 

 

A sizeable crack between the floorboards served as the perfect tool to straighten a crooked end and he almost emphatically grappled for the first link. They may have been made a century ago, maybe even more, the caking of rust easily flaking off as he felt for the opening. 

 

There were plenty of things that his Dad had taught him over the years, and not least of these was how to pick a lock. 

 

“Come on, come on,” He murmured, closing his eyes and honing in on the “clink” and “clank” of the ancient gears as they ground together. Though not as easy as it had been to procure the wire bracket,  a little pacing and patience mixed with elbow grease paid off, and suddenly Matt found himself very grateful for all those times Mom had locked her keys in the car.  When the second bracket fell to the ground with a solid “clunk” he nearly forgot about the pain he was in, springing to his feet and following the scent of laundry detergent to his freshly washed clothes. They were still a little damp, having been hung dry over the small stand-up shower, but they were a welcome relief nonetheless. 

 

Matt kicked off his borrowed clothes and dressed hurriedly. The last piece he came to was his thick overcoat, which he decided against wearing. It was still far too wet and he had no idea how long of a walk he was about to take but he wasn’t about to add hypothermia to his ever-growing stack of risks. There was that thing about the wolves, too. Would they be able to sniff him out? Would they even care? He chewed on these thoughts as he folded the discarded clothes neatly  (even if the guy was a creeper, there was no need to seem rude or ungrateful) and came back out to the main room. It really was just a tiny shed of a place, still Matt couldn’t help but be impressed by the level of tidiness. 

 

He plucked a baseball bat from the wall and examined the feel of it in his hands, wondering for a moment if the stranger used it as a weapon or if it was some kind of priceless memorabilia piece, maybe signed by someone famous. He then realized he didn’t care, tucking it beneath his arm as he struggled to put his boots on. His injuries were not helping him much, to say the least, but so far he could breathe and it seemed any wounds to his legs were mostly superficial. He didn’t care what might happen. He was going to make it home. 

 

A quick skim along the front wall determined the windows were wood-framed and double-hung, and it didn’t take much to crack the rusted lock and slide out, to the ground beneath. The crunch of leaves signaled that he was, indeed, still deep in the woods, and the instant he was outside he could feel the heat of his own breath curling around his face. He was already regretting not having a jacket, but it was enough to steal the strange man’s baseball bat let alone anything else. Besides, he’d be warming up really quickly, the sooner he got going. 

 

It wasn’t so much what he heard as what he didn’t hear that set him on edge. Besides the stiff crunch of frozen leaves beneath his feet, the silence was deafening. The chilly night air may have signaled an end to fall, but plenty of little nocturnal creatures stayed local, and Matt couldn’t recall a time when he’d heard woods so quiet.

 

There wasn’t much time to think on it. He’d have to pick a direction and head towards it. The moon hung low between two ancient cedars; it didn’t seem quite full, yet. The scope and magnitude of what his senses were capable of even overwhelmed Matt himself at times. He shivered, crossing his arms, his frozen fingers hugging his bandaged ribs, and began to walk.

 

To his front was a steep hill that could have gone on for miles. Behind him was a drop off, probably fifty yards back, down a steep ravine where a trickling river ran. Matt was going to take his best guess and say that up was the highway---maybe, hopefully, eventually?--and that the river behind him was runoff from Chassis Lake. (Again, a hopeful guess at best.) He threw up a quick prayer, setting an internal course, knowing his senses could keep with the pull of the moon and at the very least he’d be going in the same direction. 

 

Maybe he’d get lucky and he’d stumble back to the wreck. Maybe he’d find his Mom. Maybe… 

 

Sadness shot through him at the thought, taking hold of his shivering breath and squeezing down until the water flowed through his eyes, down his cheeks. He had to find her. If he hadn’t insisted on going back to class while he was home from college, they’d never have left ‘Ypsy. Or maybe if he had been braver, fought harder against the pack of...of wild...whatever they were. Maybe… 

 

He’d walked steadily uphill for at least three miles. He had to be getting close. In Northern MI was such a touristy spot, it was nearly impossible to go more than ten before encountering a lake or a hotel----he realized as he was thinking it, interrupting his own thoughts with a heavy sigh---unless you were in Ypseick. The town of sleepy little secrets that nobody ever visited, that was a stranger to strangers. This could go on for miles. And Matt was getting cold. The uphill climb was enough to keep his vital organs going, but his extremities were beginning to stiffen like ice, his toes frozen to the thin lining of his hiking boots. 

 

Then suddenly there was a noise. At first, Matt thought it could have been the thrum of a steady motor--perhaps a car or a van?---but then the intricacies of the sound--a low purr like that of a big cat and what Matt could only equate to a very human-sounding groan made his blood cease in is veins. He sucked in a deep breath and swallowed, trying desperately to hide the fog it’d make in silvery light of the moon. 

 

It was far too late for that. How had the thing snuck up on him so silently, so fast?! Heavy footsteps resounded on the bare ground of the clearing just ahead, thundering like a bass drum as the thing stalked forward. It’s massive head was crouched. Matt could feel the burn of its eyes staring directly into his own as hot breath blasted from its nostrils. 

 

Matt staggered backwards, one hand reaching out to grasp… 

 

\--the baseball bat! he’d dropped it when the creature startled him!--

 

It lay mere inches from Matt’s left boot. 

 

A massive tail like a ship’s rudder flicked back and forth as it began to circle, drawing ever-closer the shaking boy who tilted his head towards the bat and back. 

 

The thing’s massive jaws opened, its throaty panting gurgling from somewhere deep within.

 

The scent wasn’t pungent like the ones before. In fact, even as Matt stared down his own death, he could swear he even recognized the smell, though he couldn’t put a finger on it as from where. It stood much, much taller than the rest-- the hackles on its raised back like four-foot-long spikes, trailing all the way down its muscular tail. 

 

The thing blasted out another displeased grunt, stamping one of its dinnerplate-sized paws into the hollow ground. 

 

Matt shifted, this time standing with both legs together, making himself as small as possible, both arms tucked into himself, head jerked away. He’d be foolish to run. It’d be almost as stupid to fight back. 

 

The wolf edged even closer, tail still swaying, jaws still open, eyes still burning. 

 

Matt breathed in a final take of air, savouring the fall chill, his eyes fluttering closed. It’d be okay. It was only momentary. Then he’d be home again. Home to his Mom. His father would understand… 

 

“Mfh.” The creature let out a sound like a half-grumble, half-purr, and leveled its massive head to brush just beneath Matt’s balled fist. 

 

Matt let out a squeak, jumping at the sensation, but the fur was soft and warm and the beast pressed its giant skull against his leg like a housecat. As he started to breathe again--slowly, timidly, his hand unfurled, fingers threading through the thick mane and radar-like pointed ears. 

 

Finally, Matt understood. He was dreaming. He breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing a bit, even able to shake off some of the cold fall air now that he knew he was just hallucinating. He began petting the creature more willingly, this time, cupping his hand beneath the gaping mouth and even laughing a little when a scratch in just the right place resulted in a rather aggressively happy back-leg shake. Matt wondered when the dream had began. It must have been sometime before he left the dojo. Maybe he’d gotten tired and taken a nap or something. That’d explain why the hairy apex predator had a head like a lion and the hairdo of a dragon and why he’d even be petting it in the first place. Petting it, mind you!!!

 

Oh, Mom would get a hoot out of this when she came to pick him up. He’d tell her all about how he had dreamed the strangest damn dream and they’d have such a good laugh over it. The wolf crouched even lower, angling his head between Matt’s ankles and nudging him forward. 

 

“Wh-what?” Matt murmured, surprised at how much his ribs still hurt even after his revelation (because you’re supposed to be able to change anything you want in a dream right?) “What is it?”  

“Grrmph,” The beast replied, one twitch of its neck practically launching Matt onto its shoulders. 

 

“You...you want me to ride you? Is...is that it--” Matt glanced down beneath the thing’s belly and blushing a little at what he discovered there. “--boy?” 

 

The wolf let out a growl that sounded close enough to an affirmation at this point, and Matt spun himself around, his fingers threading through the creature’s spine-like hackles (because it was his dream, and why the fuck not?) and straddling its bulky middle. He recalled his first ride on the elephant at the Brooklyn Zoo and determined it wasn’t half as comfortable as this. Even though he could feel the contour of every muscle beneath him, the plush fur was so warm the feeling returned to Matt’s fingers almost instantly. It was like riding atop the world’s largest heated blanket. 

 

Matt’s feet lifted high off the ground as the wolf stood up again, its panting breath beating against its sides as it began to run. 

 

Branches whipped past them at break-neck speed, twigs snapping and leaves flying beneath their feet. It seemed they had no limits. The creature cleared downed logs as if he grew wings, and as Matt lowered his face into his ruff, he breathed deeply the smell of cedar and wood smoke and crisp, fresh linen. 

 

Almost like… 

 

Matt shook his head. 

 

Yeah right. 

 

As they rounded the hill, the sun was just beginning to peak through the tips of the horizon, it’s warm rays spilling onto Matt’s wind-blown face. The creature was slowing down. They were approaching the edge of the woods. Matt’s radar could make out the silhouette of a tiny farmhouse on the edge of a clearing, nestled right by a dirt two-track. They were coming up on the back of Matt’s house. 

 

Of course, Matt thought, because all dreams lead to home.

 

He dismounted, giving the towering creature a final rub between the ears, earning him a grateful moan, one that nearly sounded human. He smiled softly into its eyes, relieved that finally he’d come to the end of this journey and it was time to wake up. His Mom would be there any minute to pick him up from practice, and he could hardly wait. 

 

“MMmmph,” The creature said, tapping the seat of Matt’s pants with its bulbous, wet nose, pushing him towards the house.

 

Matt laughed softly. “Thanks for the ride.”

 

As he approached the back steps, he was finally losing his battle sleep. His eyes felt heavy, his muscles weak and spent. He angled his head back towards the edge of the woods, but the gigantic dog-like monster had disappeared, leaving only a faint trail of footprints in the shadows. 

 

The back gate swung easily open because in Cherry Water County, nobody locked their doors. He didn’t look around much--everything seemed to be in its place. He trotted up the stairs and slipped beneath the plush coverings of his own queen-sized bed, hugging a feather pillow tight as his mind slowed and his breathing returned to normal,  falling fast into a deep, restful sleep.  

 

It felt like mere minutes before he was being shaken awake, lifted up between two strong hands and crushed into powerful hug. “Son! Oh, god, Matt! Oh my baby boy!” 

 

“D-dad…” Matt shook his head sleepily, trying to clear the grogginess. His father was openly sobbing into Matt’s chest, squeezing him so hard his ribs felt they were going to burst. “Owh!!” Matt let out a pained hiss, and it was enough to make his Dad ease up, if only a little. Jack sniffed back huge tears, sweeping his wide hand over Matt’s head as if Matt were just that seven year old boy in footy pajamas again. 

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, son. Sorry. Oh god. Are...are you okay? You alright? Frank told me you were---”

 

Matt stiffened up, his mind doing cartwheels. No, he had been dreaming, There was no Frank. There was no rainy highway, no accident, no wolves taller than church steeples that howled at night… He shoved his Dad away, holding him at arm’s length as he barked out, “Who is Frank?” 

 

“F-Frank Castle,” Jack murmured incredulously. He started stroking Matt’s hair again, as if throwing aside the comment, as if Frank didn’t matter, as if none of it mattered. “Oh, sweet boy. My baby boy. God I’m so glad you’re safe… I’m so sorry….”

 

“Dad---Dad….” Matthew pried away from the pawing hands, shoving him back. “DAD STOP!” 

 

He listened to the patter of a single tear as it dripped from Jack’s stubble to the bedsheet below. 

 

He’d wanted to ask him this question for what seemed like days now. He’d felt so sure on the back of that dog that he knew what was happening. That it was all just some dream and he’d wake up and everything would be back to normal. But now, as his father’s grief--his gut-wrenching, tortuous, _clearly_ _real_ grief, he’d began to doubt once more. He swallowed hard, gripping his father’s shaking arms beneath the stiff uniform fabric. “Wh...Where is Mom?” 

 

* * * * * 

 

Cherry Water County, MI--

 

The body of 54-year old Margaret Grace Murdock was found Thursday morning in a ravine bordering the Chassis River access. Authorities believe she was travelling Eastbound on I-117 when her SUV overturned, most likely due to slippery road conditions. 

 

Her body was located 500 yards from the scene. 

 

The medical Examiner’s Office said Friday that an autopsy will be performed to determine if Margaret was the victim of foul play.

 

She leaves behind a husband, Sherrif Jack Murdock, 57 and her son Matthew Murdock, 22. A Celebration of Life has been planned for the following Friday at 4:00pm at Lasting Hope Parish. Following the Coroner’s report, Margaret will be laid to rest at Lasting Hope Cemetery. 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A funeral, a meltdown and surprising offer.

Matthew sat and stared at the empty casket in front of him as visitors poured in. He didn’t have the strength his Dad showed, greeting every person, smiling genuinely through his tears. He supposed his dad was grateful for the outpouring of love. Matt was furious. He sat and seethed, cracking his bruised knuckles and trying his best to block out the sounds of the well-wishers and the pathetic burbling whines of women who remembered “sometimes seeing” his Mom at potlucks. 

 

He was beginning to understand what a small town’s secrets really were. This was a sham. A show. How DARE his father weep and cry on the Priest’s shoulder when there was still work to be done. Someone, somewhere out there, killed his mother in cold blood and damned if Matt wasn’t going to rest until he found the bastard. 

 

Of course, they all whispered in hushed tones thinking he couldn’t hear them. They were the generic condolences like the ones written on the front of every Hallmark card. “We’re so sorry for your loss.” “You’ll be alright.” “She was loved.” 

 

They’d practically thrown him out when he’d gone to the Coroner. Refused to let him see her. The medical examiner wouldn’t even tell him why, just that in his “delicate condition” it was unwise. They said she was mangled. Her body broken, torn. Matt blinked back the cold tears that threatened to flow. How dare they.

 

A familiar voice broke through his clouded thoughts, and Matt raised an eyebrow as he honed in on it. 

 

The man from the cabin. 

 

“Frank,” His Dad greeted in a whisper, throwing an arm around the man’s shoulders. Matt’s hackles instantly raised. It was highly unusual that he didn’t know someone from around here. Odder still that the man was obviously a hermit who lived in the backwoods and apparently lived off wild pig. 

 

“Hey, uh…yeah, how is he?” The man’s voice was irritatingly attractive. That made it even worse! Matt hadn’t ever been attracted to a voice before, let alone a man’s---let alone his captor’s!!! Still, that silver lilt and velvety gravel lit up Matt’s insides and nearly made him forget that he was supposed to be in mourning. His dick wouldn’t listen. He shifted uncomfortably, swinging one leg across the other and folding his arms. 

 

Jack grumbled, shaking his head. (Matt’s sonar had its perks. Being able to “sense” people’s movements without actually *seeing* them) “He’s hanging in there. He’s a tough kid. Just...alot of anger over the whole, uh, investigation thing.”

 

“Yeah can’t say I blame ‘im. After Maria and the kids, uh...let’s just say there wasn’t a brick wall in town that I didn’t want to punch a hole through, ya know?” 

 

“Yeah, I remember that Frank. I’m sorry.” 

 

“Well…” Frank clasped a hand around Jack’s shoulder, returning the one-armed hug. “You need anything...just howl, yeah?” 

 

Matt’s eyes went wide, his heart skipping a beat. What did he just…? He quickly shook the thought away. Great, now he was delusional *and* paranoid.

 

“Hey,” Jack murmured, “You think you could, go over there, and just...ya know?”

 

“Huh? Oh, ah...nah, you know what I really gotta get going...I just came to ah…” 

 

“Frank. After what you did for him, for me? It would mean alot.” 

 

NO, NO NO NO Matt’s brain began chanting. He wanted nothing to do with this total CREEPER! What did his Dad mean, “what you did for him”? What did he do? He chained him to a frigging couch, that’s what he did! And Matt was supposed to what--show his  _ gratitude _ ? HE DIDN’T FUCKING THINK SO. 

 

“Uh….” Frank smacked his lips, tossing his folded hat from one hand to the other, his eyes darting in Matt’s direction. 

 

NO NO NO NO NO…. 

 

“Y-yeah. Sure. Okay.”

 

Matt swallowed hard as heavy boots made their way down the row of pews, the heat rising to his cheeks. He let out a disdainful huff, tossing his auburn bangs into his face with the flick of his head. 

 

It wasn’t enough, apparently, for MR. STALKER to say a word of condolence and leave, like the rest. Oh no. The man named Frank let out a beleaguered sigh and slid into the pew, right next to him. The antique wood groaned under his weight. He wasn’t as tall as Deputy Cage, but he still towered over Matt, folding the rock-hard muscle of his arms in front of his chest. The sigh cut off into a rumble right at the end that sounded like a bobcat’s purr. After about four seconds of the most uncomfortable silence since the beginning of the history of ever, he muttered in that annoyingly sultry tone, “You owe me a baseball bat.”

 

“Hmph,” Matt murmured, looking the other way. 

 

“And a new window lock.”

 

Matt let go of his inner lip just long enough to shoot back. “You owe me a jacket.” 

 

Frank chuckled. “Fair enough.” 

 

Matt was going to shoot back something petty like,  _ Yeah I fucking know and fuck you,  _ but he stopped himself, remembering the fake casket in front of him and what--who-- it represented. 

 

Frank swallowed. He fell silent, his heart skipping the occasional beat, as if he were battling some inward struggle. “I ain’t gonna say I’m sorry. Cuz I imagine you been hearin’ that alot lately, and you and I both know it doesn’t do shit.” 

 

Matt scoffed, hugging himself a little tighter. “What would you know about it?” 

 

“Trust me, kid. I just know. And… I’m….I did what I had to do back there. To keep you safe. You know, until…” 

 

“Until I escaped you mean?” (Matt still hadn’t figured out quite how he’d actually made it home. Maybe the cold weather made him hallucinate? ) Matt felt vindication swell in his battered heart and he blurted out, “What if I told my Dad you chained me up?” 

 

Frank’s eyebrows raised and the small gathering ceased their whispering for a moment while Matt fought the urge to run and hide. “He knows about that,” Frank muttered, retaining that tone of amusement. “He knows why I did it, too. He just...he can’t tell you that part yet.”

 

“This is bullshit,” Matt growled. He kicked himself to standing, popping up from his seat, arms still folded tightly as he marched down the aisle. 

 

“Matthew,” His Dad warned. 

 

“No! This is bullshit!” Matt threw his arms wide. “All of this! That is a fucking empty box, Dad! Mom---Mom is lying in a morgue and everybody’s just accepting it like this shit happens every day? WHAT ARE ALL THE SECRETS FOR? Who the *fuck* are you protecting, because it sure as hell isn’t me!”

 

“Matt--” 

 

He burst past his father, hot tears streaming down his face as he threw the parish doors wide and stalked into the parking lot. The autumn wind was blowing full-force, but it was a welcome retreat from the rage he felt pulsing in his veins. 

 

“It’s okay,” he heard Frank say behind him. “I’ve got ‘im.” 

 

As the now familiar boot-steps followed behind, Matt stalked to the edge of the lot, sucking in deep breaths of icey air and willing himself not to cry. 

 

“Hey…” Frank collected him against his will, against the very core of his being that was screaming at him to fight, to free himself, to run. “Hey, hey, hey, hey…” Gathering him into those powerful, mysterious arms and holding him tight as Matt delivered blow after blow after blow, letting his anger fly, letting his heart explode, a scream tearing out from the very center of his being, lungs scraping for air. “Ssssh. It’s okay. I got you. It’s alright, kid. I know. I know, I know.” 

 

Like flipping a switch, Matt collapsed into violent sobs, heaving into Frank’s dress jacket, until the only thing holding his knees from hitting the ground was a pair of massive arms and wide, calloused hands. Frank continued his soothing cooes, smoothing Matt’s hair away from his tear-stained face as he supported him and murmuring promises into his ear, their faces pressed together as if they’d known each other for a lifetime.

 

When Matt could return to his senses, he would feel a hot rush of embarrassment and make a break for it. He’d run without stopping, never looking back. The one person in the world who could make sense of it all was gone. But until then, Matt clung to the kind stranger as he choked back the last of his tears, allowing himself to be soothed by the gentle rumble of his chest and the feel of powerful hands holding him up. 

 

* * * * *

 

He decided in the weeks following that he wasn’t going back to school, at least not right away. Despite folks insisting that he should take his time, there were far too many things that required his attention. The investigation he’d began into his Mother’s death, for one, and the house that his father still abandoned like clockwork every night. 

 

He’d set up a small office at the kitchen table where his mother used to write. With a little help, he’d be able to get his coursework done online and still have time left over for research. If nobody else gave a damn about what had happened to his mother, he’d gladly do it alone. Either way, he wasn’t going to let it rest. 

 

He hadn’t thought much on the strange creatures in the woods or the moonlit ride back to the house; he’d taken enough psychology classes to know that grief was a funny kind of animal in itself. It made you think things had happened when in reality they hadn’t, replacing actual events with false memories or hallucinations because--like the movie says--you simply can’t handle the truth. 

 

The man called Frank Castle was definitely real, however. He was one of those stray puzzle pieces still floating around the board, and Matt had yet to see where he fit in the scheme of things. Of course, this in itself could have been his paranoia talking. Frank could very well have been a kind stranger who’d lived in the area for years, maybe even decades, who’d stumbled upon Matt’s lifeless form and carried him home and made him better. It didn’t explain the chains around Matt’s ankles--Matt shivered at the thought--but as Frank had said, it was something that required further explaining, something his Dad was so far unwilling to give. 

 

During one of his sleepless nights, Matt could have sworn he heard something large approach the back gate. He’d poked his head up out of curiosity to sense a long-tailed dog-like creature with his back to the house, staring out at the field, his tail twitching ever so slightly. It had most likely been yet another one of his hallucinations. (He really had to get a grip!)

 

Frank hadn’t come around in several days, and Matt was furious with himself that that actually mattered. He felt just the slightest pang of longing for the man. After all, he’d hung around after the funeral, helping move the flowers and the tables and even doing dishes after the potluck. Who does that? Just, inserts himself into the picture, acting like he gives a shit, then fucks off as if he never even existed? 

 

It was almost at the exact moment these thoughts flew threw his mind that the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” he called. His Dad was most likely in the garage, finding something to fix because that’s how the Murdock men cope with their feelings. He made out the silhouette of the visitor before even opening the door, a tall, built man who dwarfed the solid frame of the entryway. Matt felt his face flush and sent up a little prayer that it wasn’t noticeable before swinging the door open to greet him. He was sure to put on a small frown. Couldn’t let the man think he was actually almost *happy* to see him. 

 

“Uh, hey,” Frank grunted with a tight smile. Folded neatly in his arms was Matt’s wool overcoat. “I owed you a jacket, remember?” 

 

Matt’s eyes fluttered behind his dark lenses. “Huh? Oh, yeah.” He chewed on the inside of his lip before adding, stupidly, “I still don’t have your bat.”

 

There came that velvety chuckle again, ringing like the perfect blend of the finest music Matt had ever heard. “That’s alright. It was nothin’ special. Hey, is your Dad home…?” 

 

“Frankie boy!,” Jack sang as he approached from behind Matt, wiping his hands on a shop rag. “I’d shake your hand, but, ah--” He wiggled them midair, sending up the scent of engine coolant and motor oil. 

 

“Gotcha,” Frank said, flashing a brilliant smile. 

 

“Thanks for bringing his coat back,” Jack added. “Come on in!” 

 

“Oh, nah, that’s alright. I really should get--”

 

“Nonsense! I’m finished for the day. And Matt was just about to order pizza.” 

 

Matt growled a little as his Dad playfully jabbed him in the sides. It didn’t hurt a bit. Matt had healed up. In fact, he’d always been a fast healer. And as far back as Matt could recall, he’d never even been sick. He was even able to hide his blindness a majority of the time; his heightened senses allowing him to walk around and function almost as well as any sighted person. He could “see”, in a way--a world on fire, every detail vivid and alive. 

 

Matt didn’t put up too much of a fight, glad in a way that his Dad insisted Frank stay. Matt wanted to observe him, yeah that was it. For investigative purposes, of course. Not because his every movement and gesture was like some calling card that spoke directly to the center of Matt’s being, or because he could happily listen for hours to that gravelly-smooth voice like the quiet rumble of thunder after a storm.   

 

He darted into the kitchen before his intensifying blush could be spotted and dialed up the local pizza shop. 

 

They ate in relative silence, with Jack and Frank sitting on the shabby couch across from the blank TV and Matt perched on the edge of his Dad’s Lazy Boy recliner. Jack brought up the occasional tough-guy talk, like about the small oil leak he couldn’t seem to find, or the upcoming deer season. Frank would respond in kind, but regardless of the subject his eyes would fall back to Matt, lingering perhaps a little too long, and Matt took a slow, hard bite as he felt the butterflies let loose in his stomach. 

 

_ What the hell was wrong with him??! _

 

He snapped-to at the mention of his name  _ “-- _ and Matt’s talking about spending the rest of the year here at home.”   

 

Frank raised an eyebrow at Jack. “Yeah? Ain’t that kind of hard to do right in the middle of the school year?” 

 

“Not really,” Matt offered. “Alot of the classes are done online now as it is. I’ve got to head back to the dorm for a few days, though. To pack up.”

 

“That  _ is,”  _ Jack corrected. “If we can find someone to drive him.”

 

Matt rolled his eyes. He had gotten used to his Dad’s protective nature over the years, but he was ready and willing to try things on his own. “I already told you, there’s a Greyhound station not fifteen miles from here. I’m not the first blind person to travel by themselves.” 

 

“Yeah and I’ve already told you that I’m not comfortable with it, Matty.”

 

Matt let out a groan of disgust. They’d been OVER this! He hated that nickname worst of all. Made him feel like a child, and it was 800 times worse when spoken in front of other people.

 

“I’d do it,” Frank blurted. 

 

Both father and son fell into a stunned silence. Frank cleared his throat, shifting stiffly in his seat before reiterating, “Ya know, take him to New York.” 

 

Matt surprised himself when he realized that he wasn’t totally adverse to the idea. “You...you would?” 

 

Frank’s thick eyelashes battered bashfully against his jagged cheekbones. “Uhm. Yeah, that is...if it’s okay…” 

 

Matt wondered why a seemingly antisocial backwoods recluse would just up and volunteer to drive a guy he barely knew into a city that had more people than it did square footage. 

 

“That’s great!” Jack injected with a happy shout, delivering a joyful slap in between Frank’s shoulder blades. He sprang immediately to his feet and crossed the room to the junk pile of paperwork by the front door. He rummaged around for a moment before producing a crumpled map and a pen, holding it up like some kind of trophy. “I have the route all marked out and everything! See, what you’ll want to do is take I-117 down to Bartlay, that’s about 113 miles. Then you’d want to get onto the 1-80 turnpike towards Detroit…” 

 

Matt and Frank shared quietly amused glances as Jack went on, with Frank’s lips curling upwards slowly in a secret smile meant only for him. It seemed suspiciously convenient to Matt, but maybe he’d give this Frank guy a try. There was something oddly calming about his presence, even though Matt’s heart soared a little higher with each encounter. This was stupid, this was just his crazy mind trying to make sense of an impossible situation. He looked away, biting down on the inside of his lip and reaching up to feel his mouth, making sure he hadn’t smeared his face with sauce. Around Frank, he felt completely exposed, vulnerable. And it was as scary as it was thrilling. 

 

* * * * *

 

“I need something,” Frank murmured. 

 

Claire cast a wary look up at the man in her doorway, his hoodie shading his face from view. She sighed and rolled away from the computer, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her lab coat. “It’s been awhile, Frank. I see you’re just as cordial as ever.” 

 

Frank stepped forward into the light, lowering the hoodie and revealing the thirsty yellow glow of his eyes. “I...I’m going away for a while.”

 

“Yeah and it’s almost sundown, so what the hell are you doing here?” 

 

Frank pulled out his wallet to lay a small stack of bills on the counter. “Look, I know you said it’s still in the testing stages, but consider me a willing guinea pig, yeah? I’m taking Murdock’s kid to New York to get his stuff, and I can’t...I don’t wanna run into any kind of trouble.” 

 

Claire scoffed bitterly, turning back to tap something into her computer. “You  _ are  _ your own trouble, Castle. You think the Murdock Clan can hold their own for the time you’ll be gone?”

 

Frank nodded. “Chief and I already spoke to the guys. Luke and Danny know to be on alert, and they’re getting the Cherowa tribe involved.” 

 

He seemed to be convincing her. As she slowly nodded, she muttered into the distance, “And Billy won’t be stupid enough to mess around with the Ancients.” 

 

“That’s what I’m hoping.” 

 

Claire folded her arms cocking her head to one side and giving him a once-over before murmuring, “What is it with you and the Murdock boy?” 

 

Frank shrugged. “I...I guess I figure I should see this thing through, Claire. I couldn’t save his Mom. I had to choose. I knew if Billy didn’t get her then, he’d never stop until he did. And Matt, you know. He’s just a kid. So, I gotta keep him safe, you know? I’m not gonna let…” His eyes lost their sparkle as he leveled his gaze to the floor. “...I’m not going to let anything happen to him.” 

 

Claire let out a long sigh, studying him with a concerned side-gance before leaving her chair and reaching a small, thin vial on the shelf above her head. “It’s got some side-effects,” she warned, fitting the vial along with several sterile needles into a black case. Zipping it up, she let the case hover just out of reach of Frank’s outstretched hand. “Nausea, migraines, and an insatiable hankering for raw red meat, to name a few.” 

 

“Consider me warned,” Frank muttered with a grin. 

 

She pulled back again just as he reached for it. “Three night-cycles! That’s all you get.” 

 

“Okay, okay. I get it.”

 

“I mean it Frank. This stuff’s not super safe as it is. The longer you stay out of form, the more difficult it’s going to be to keep in control of your...instincts.”

 

“Yes Ma’am,” Frank chided, finally pulling the little case out of her grasp and stuffing it deep into his pocket. 

 

“And Frank?” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

A wad of cash came hurtling towards him, and he caught it with catlike reflexes. 

 

“Don’t insult me. I don’t want your money. How bout you just try coming home in one piece, yeah?” 

 

Frank tipped his hoodie like tipping a hat, the bright yellow rings in his eyes glowing through the shadow as he turned and disappeared through the doorway, out into the night.  

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Frank embark, and Billy gets personal with Luke and Danny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey kiddos! This is where things finally speed up and things begin to get a little steamy <3 I hope you are all enjoying it so far

There was one road out of Ypseic, and it was the same one that heads into it. Matt’s heart raced as they approached the spot in the road where the accident had been: he scanned the row of trees as they blurred by, trying to pick up on the form of the wreckage. But even if he could detect it, he knew it most likely wasn’t there anymore. It had probably been turned over on its side by now, sawed out of its resting place to preserve whatever “evidence” there was, strapped onto the bed of a tow truck and hauled to the impound lot (which, consequently doubled as the County dump.) 

 

Sooner than he was ready, the seasons would pass by. The rain would wash away the tire marks in the road. Then snow would cover the disturbed leaves and the ground that had been torn away. Time would slowly erase any indication that anything had ever happened there. 

 

The tug at his heart was still there, but the tears that had long since dried didn’t return. He’d wondered then if he’d finally cried them all out. A slight squeeze on his shoulder jarred him out of his daydream and slammed him back into reality. 

 

“I’m not gonna tell you it’s going to be alright,” Frank murmured, his gaze planted firmly on the road ahead as the truck rumbled along. “Shit knows I never felt that way.” 

 

Matt slid back in the seat, setting one foot on the dash as worked up the courage to ask the question that had been gnawing at him for days. “What...what happened to them? Your family?” 

 

Frank huffed. “Your Dad told you about that, huh? Well, it’s not really a secret.” He blew out a deep sigh and took a swig from his travel mug, rolling the piping hot coffee in his mouth before answering. “I had two kids. Frankie and Lisa. They uh….were real good kids. And A wife. Maria. They were just, fuckin’, everything to me, ya know? And ah...it was an accident. On the road, here.” 

 

The hair on Matt’s neck stood on end. “Here…? I-117?” 

 

Frank nodded. “I wasn’t with ‘em. Lisa was driving at the time. Fuckin’ blizzard. An asshole came through with his lights off. Pulled right out in front of them.” He shook his head slowly, his bottom lip quivering just the slightest. “He was killed instantly. Lucky bastard. Lisa lingered in the hospital for the next two weeks before the docs pronounced her braindead. Maria and Frankie…”  Frank’s eyes shifted off the road to meet Matt’s just for a moment. “Nah, anyways…” 

 

Matt blinked, swallowing expectantly. When Frank didn’t continue, Matt pressed his head to the cool window and they shared the mercy that came with the numbing silence as the engine rumbled along. 

 

* * * * * 

 

It didn’t take more than half a day to get to New York. Matt drifted around like he was in some kind of dream world. He didn’t want to tell his college-mates what was going on, especially when he himself wasn’t exactly sure. The only thing he’d truly miss was his roommate Foggy, who had reacted with all the protectiveness of a big brother when Matt entered with a stack of empty cardboard boxes and a towering middle-aged man following close behind. 

 

Matt would be back, he promised. It was only for a short while, one semester at the most. He kept it together long enough to fold up his bedding and gather the stack of books and the remnants of clothes from his side of the small closet. More tears found their way down his face as soon as they’d hugged, with Foggy growing more and more concerned the more Matt tried to insist everything was fine. He only let go with the promise that Matt would call him once a week till he got back. It reminded Matt that he’d touched more lives than just the ones in ‘Ypsey, and that the world was so much bigger than him. Maybe, in time, he’d convince himself of it. 

 

Matt had planned on spending the night at the dorm, maybe having a small going-away-”for-now” party at Josie’s, but he could barely keep standing, an ability he seemed to lose the second he reached the truck. Using the last of his strength to pull himself into the seat, he heaved a huge sigh as the door groaned closed and the world once again fell down around him. He hid his face and did his best to muffle his sobs. He’d never felt so pathetic in his life, and the fact that Frank was right there to throw an understanding arm around his shoulders made it even worse. 

 

Sharing a hotel room might have seemed like a risky move at this point, but in the short span of 48 hours Matt and Frank had gone from complete strangers to practically living in each other’s back pockets, so something felt oddly nonchalant about it. 

 

He helped himself to the small basket of fresh fruit on the table in front of him while Frank showered. 

 

A separate-bedroom suite with a fireplace couldn’t have been cheap; but where did Frank work? What sort of jobs could a hermit hold down? Matt added that to the growing list of questions he was slowly working up the nerve to ask as a shirtless Frank padded out into the middle of the room peered out at him from beneath the towel draped over his head. “What?” 

 

Matt straightened up. Had he been staring? “Uh, sorry.”    

 

His sonar bounced from droplet to droplet on Frank’s body, making out the gleam of bulging muscle beneath wet skin. Small scars were etched along the surface, some newer than others. Frank had boxer-shorts on, and that was it. There was little doubt he was at the very least comfortable with his body. He flopped down on the other end of the small couch, stretching out his impossibly long legs as he scrubbed at the mop of tight curls atop his head.

 

Frank let out a soft snicker. “S-alright kid. I dunno what all you can sense, but look all you want.” 

 

The words hit Matt like a freight train. That sultry tone in Frank’s voice had returned, making Matt swallow hard. He shifted Frank’s way on the couch, tucking one leg under the other and daring to scooch just the slightest bit closer to him. “Hey Frank?” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“Uhm…” Matt’s face burned hotter than ever before. “Do you think I could ‘see‘ you?” 

 

Frank squinted, obviously trying to make out what he meant. 

 

“I can...you know...I can pick up a lot of what you look like through touch...would you let me read your face?” 

 

Frank nodded slowly on exhale, his mouth parting just the slightest. “Yeah. Sure.” 

 

Matt timidly closed the distance between them, reveling in the soapy scent delicately layered over Frank’s natural musk. It did nothing to damper the effect it had on Matt, and he had to bend a knee a bit to hide his growing erection. Even his nipples were stiff with excitement, rubbing against the soft lining of his thermal top until they itched. He could feel the electricity Frank slid his eyes closed, a soft groan rumbling from deep within his chest. 

 

Matt’s fingers spread, and he sucked in a deep breath as he brought them forward. Suddenly, a hand clasped his and he gasped, coming to his senses in time to keep from pulling away. The touch was soft and gentle, despite the thick calluses on Frank’s fingertips. Suddenly, Frank’s scent surrounded him. It was like Matt was being pulled in and he would have been helpless to stop it even if he wanted to. He traced a line down the ridge of Frank’s nose, memorizing the crooked slope, the bulbous knot in the middle where it had been broken too many times to guess, and up to his closed eyes, spreading them over his high cheekbones and the fine lines beyond. Frank’s thick eyelashes fluttered against Matt’s palm as his breath hitched. The thrum of his blood vessels resounded like a bass drum. If Matt’s heart was pounding, Frank’s was positively ready to burst. 

 

He was beautiful. A weathered roman statue that had earned a few pits and scars and had come out on the other side with all its integrity and eloquence intact. Matt’s fingers fluttered, as gently as butterfly wings, down the youthful fullness of his cheeks, surprised at the heat beneath them. He hesitated at Frank’s philtrum, rubbing the pad of one thumb over his well-defined cupid’s bow.

 

HIs lips were wet and pursed, his sharp breath blowing through his flared nostrils and warming Matt’s palm. Matt pressed both thumbs against his pouty bottom lip, into the plush pad of velvety skin.

 

Frank let out a guttural grunt suddenly as his mouth dropped open and Matt’s thumb slid into the warmth and wetness that waited there. Matt let out a little squeak as it swept over the tip of Frank’s tongue and he jerked away suddenly, flattening his back to the cushions.   

 

“S-sorry,” Frank rasped through a lusty haze. “I should… I’m gonna hit the hay.” He sprang up from the couch, crossing the room in a few quick strides without looking back. 

 

“Wait--” Matt’s heart was pounding, his head dizzy, the room swirling around him. Frank was exhibiting all the signs and symptoms of arousal, indications that Matt had no problem picking up on thanks to his enhanced senses. Could it be..?

 

He sat in the stillness as the door clicked closed, staring into the abyss of his mind as he sank backwards into the cushions, letting out a ragged sigh. 

 

* * * * *

 

“Officer Rand,” A familiar voice purred from behind him, wheeling Danny backwards in the rickety office chair. It let out a dry “creak” beneath the weight of the towering man as he flattened his lips to Danny’s jugular. “You look hard at work.”

 

Danny tried to stifle a impish grin, craneing away from the touch to pry the wandering hands from around his waist. “Luke,” he murmured weakly, “Not now! Gotta finish up these reports before the end of the night or Chief’s gonna--” 

 

“Have we been married that long?” Luke let out a possessive groan, finding his way beneath Danny’s uniform shirt as Danny half-heartedly fought him off, his wide fingers sliding over the soft peppering of hair at Danny’s navel. “Now even paperwork is more interesting than me? I see how it is. Perhaps you just need reminding…” 

 

Luke’s hands flew up as bell dinged and the door to the little Department slid open. He cleared his throat and tried his damndest to look like he’d been in the middle of a very official conversation, but it was hard to act natural with a raging boner, especially with his partner flashing a wide-eyed, red-faced stare at the intruder. 

 

“Oh no,” the visitor’s sultry voice chimed. “Please, continue. After all…” Billy drifted into the room like he owned it, his usual scrubs traded out for a black biker jacket and tight-fitting jeans. “I find the mating habits of lesser beings rather entertaining.”

 

A low growl emanated from Danny, a sound too animalistic and raw to be totally human, as he sprang from the chair and skirted around the short metal desk. Luke’s hand clamped down tight on his shoulder to keep him back, but his eyes were burning into Billy’s. “Let it go,” he rasped. 

 

Danny bit back a disgusted groan, reluctantly returning to his partner’s side. 

 

Billy grinned. “Good doggie. Obey your handler.” 

 

Luke snapped. “What do you want?” 

 

Billy raised an eyebrow, sauntering further into the room, making sure to drift dangerously close to the snarling, curly-haired blond. He swept gracefully down into a chair, his lean legs crossing themselves as he leisurely tugged off his gloves, finger-by-finger. “I know you think I’m the bad guy,” he muttered, glass-blue eyes gleaming tauntingly at the shorter officer. “But I think if you search, deep down you both know the truth. What I did, what my 

did, was for the good of 

of us.”

 

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “You finished?” 

 

“Oooh, that anxious to get rid of me?” 

 

“Could wait for Chief to get back…” 

 

“Honestly, Luke, that hurts. We’re in this thing together, right? But in any case, that’s not what I came here to talk about.” 

 

Luke rested one hand on his holster, his fingers edging ever-closer to the revolver beneath. “Talk fast.” 

 

Billy’s smug facade faded, his face becoming serious. “I can’t find Frank.” 

 

“Frank’s a big boy. He can take care of himself. Besides, from what I hear, he’s not really your problem anymore.” 

 

Billy’s eyes flashed, a tinge of hurt washing over his countenance before quashing it with a sharp, toothy smile. Ignoring the dig, he continued, “I searched that little shack of his. You know as well as I do he doesn’t usually leave it, not for days. Chains himself up on full moons because he can’t control his...urges. Anyway, I was wondering if you’d seen him in town, considering he--like you--is none too pleased with the necessary action I had to take to preserve our way of life.” 

 

“Did you eat her?,” Danny barked, his eyes suddenly flashing wild, orange rings dancing around his pupils. 

 

Billy ran his tongue along his bottom lip, biting off a smile. “What do you think, Puppy?” 

 

“You sick, sadistic son of a---” Danny launched himself over the desk, two sets of long, spike-like claws extending from his fingertips and coming within centimeters of Billy’s flawless porcelain face before he was once again hauled backwards by his towering mate. “She wouldn’t have said 

to anyone, and you know it!!!” 

 

“Oooh, down boy.” Billy examined his own nails, perfectly round and manicured, eyes flickering up unconcerned, beneath equally perfect eyebrows. “Can it be that you have completely forgotten exactly what it is we do here, little puppy? Has your clan gone so long without the taste of human flesh that you are starting to *think* like them? You do realize that humans eat cattle, right? They slaughter innocent, defenseless animals that are too braindead to fight back. They fill their bellies with them by the *MILLIONS*.. . They mass-breed them, mass-slaughter them, mass-produce them just so they can serve em up along an order of fries. My clan is doing the fucking *world* a favor by taking out a few. Think of it as ...evening the odds. Do you know what happens to clans that get *discovered* Danny? Do you think we are shown mercy?” Billy shakes his head, fighting back the flickering ring of blue electricity that begins to spark in his eyes. “They take their guns and their bows and arrows and they plow us down like wheat in a field. So no. I’m NOT taking any chances. I will NOT feel pity. I REFUSE to apologize for doing what was born to do--what we were all made to do! And if that means a few less fleshies are roaming the world, then so be it.” 

 

“What about the boy?” Luke murmurs, one massive arm swung over Danny’s shoulders as he levels a sad stare at Billy. 

 

Billy snorts. “The half-breed? There was a plan to take him out, too. After all, it is *your* Alpha who decided to break Clan Protocol and fuck the food supply.” 

 

“You fucking---!” Danny spat. 

 

Luke clamped a wide hand down over his mouth. “But Frank stopped you, didn’t he?” 

 

Billy shrugged. “More like, I let him take the kid. I figured, throw him a bone, right? After all, it was little Wifey that was posting all those articles and poking around where she shouldn’t be. And, to prove I’m not a total badguy, I’ve decided I’m not going to pursue the brat. As long as he keeps to his own business and Daddy shuts his cake-hole, everything should be perfectly copacetic from here on out.” 

 

Luke chewed on his thoughts, snaking a hand behind Danny, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles over the small of his back to calm him. Danny struggled against the sleepy feeling for only a brief moment before slumping back against the wide expanse of his chest. “So what do you need to find Frank for?” 

 

“I’ll be honest,” Billy murmured, rising from the chair. He stuffed the gloves into either jacket pocket, still watching Luke from out of the corner of his eye. “I’m worried about him. We were mated for a really long time, and I don’t have to tell you two what that feels like.” 

 

“Well tough shit for you,” Danny blurted out suddenly, finishing the sentence before Luke could slam a hand over his mouth again. “Because Frank’s in New York with the Chief's son so you’re just going to have to--”

 

One eyebrow disappeared into his slick black bangs as Luke wrangled the squirming blond. “Really?” He let out a bitter chuckle, tapping the edge of his mouth with one finger as he paced around the room. “Now why would he go and do a thing like that?” 

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Luke said, his voice deepening. “Like you said, you’ve got no business with either of them.” 

 

“Neither do you, Officer Cage. I mean, not really. Frank isn’t part of your clan and the kid thinks he’s a pure fleshie, so why be so protective of them?” 

 

“Because you’re one-hundred percent, unadulterated A-grade scum, Billy.” He nodded towards the rumble of a vehicle coming down the driveway. “And that’d be the Chief. You better get to tucking that tail between your legs.” 

 

Before he could finish, Billy was gone and broken blinds slapped against the open window. Shortly after, the throaty roar of a motorcycle could be heard, tearing off down the little two-lane road. 

  
  


 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Frank get into trouble in the Big Apple. Billy just plain *is* trouble, and there's a little cliffhanger to this chapter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, please let me know of any grammatical/spelling errors. I literally just typed this out. This is where shit starts to get interesting so I couldn't wait for you to read it!!! A bit of a cliffhanger in this one, (also please don't totally hate Frank) 
> 
> *Trigger warning, This chapter does contain a bit of an anger-bang, just fyi. It is NOT non con btw

“They say it fades if you let it. Love was made to forget it. I carved your name across my eyelids. You pray for rain, I pray for blindness.” --Arcade Fire, “Crown of Love”

 

Frank couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen the night through human eyes. The reflections of the street lights and glaring traffic ran like a Van Gogh painting in the light rain. He’d snuck onto the rooftop after double-checking that the kid was indeed asleep, tucked into a tight ball beneath the comforter that Frank had pulled off the bed. The city was everything he’d remembered it being; loud and smelly and hectic, but he couldn’t say he didn’t like it. He just knew he wouldn’t miss it when they headed home the following morning.

 

The constant itch in his fingers was still there, the slight tingle along his spine reminding him that it was only temporary, that soon enough he’d be back in the woods, racing through the ragged trees, drinking from ice-cold streams and listening for the snuffling sounds of his next kill in the thick underbrush. 

 

He glanced down at the half-eaten container of raw hamburger on his lap and grimaced through another bite, wiping his mouth with a blood-soaked hand. He could taste the red dye and it was enough to turn his stomach. He missed the succulence of that first fresh bite, as his fangs shredded through skin and fur to sink down deep into warm, wriggling flesh. But this would do for now. It sated the hunger at least, and helped him clear his head.

 

The kid was getting too close. And Frank’s involvement wasn’t helping any. It had been one thing to watch-guard the house at night against Billy and his clan, but what was he doing /here/, of all places? Helping the kid /move/?? So Matt could /stay/ near the fire he was unknowingly playing with? 

 

Frank had fooled himself at first. Maybe he’d protected the kid against Billy to get back at him. Maybe it was his sympathy for Chief Murdock; Frank knew what it was like to lose your entire family in the blink of an eye and no-one deserved that. But one look into those desperate, deep-brown eyes as the kid lay helpless on the ground and Frank knew ...he was hooked. A feeling like none he’d ever felt--not for Claire, not for the kids--had hit him straight-on like a Mac truck, burrowing right into his very marrow like a silent vow and in that moment, nothing mattered,  /nothing/ except /him/. 

 

He’d guard him with his life. Whatever it took, whatever the cost, Matthew would be kept safe from all harm. He had to be. Frank swore it. He’d heard the elders talk about such a thing. They called it “Imprinting.” It was a rare bond, something every wolf yearned for their entire life but few ever found. Every wolf but Frank, that is. He wanted nothing to do with it. He had enough of love and loss for one lifetime, thank you very much. Frank only wanted to be left in peace--with his cabin, his coffee and his midnight hunts. 

 

Why the fuck /him/?, Frank thought, slamming the package of raw meat down beside him. He jumped to his feet, raking an aggravated hand through his hair as a struggle in the street below suddenly jarred his train of thought. 

 

“C’mon sweet cheeks, show us a little skin.” 

 

Frank could practically /smell/ the ill intent on the group of thugs as they harassed a college-age girl, surrounding her on all sides, herding her into the alleyway down the adjacent street. But that’s not all he smelled. His nose crinkled the second a strong whiff of something dead and otherworldly. “Fuck,” he growled. He didn’t have the time or resources to deal with this shit. Let alone the fact that he was still in his human form. The growing terror rolled off the girl, her scent kicking up high into the rainy night air. 

 

“P-please...leave me alone!” 

 

“What,” one of the strangers cooed, sliding a sickening familiar hand down her skirt. “You don’t want to play with us? We won’t bite…” 

 

Frank strode to the ledge, staring down at the scene. He really shouldn’t get involved. It wasn’t his town...not his territory, not his problem. He could just turn around, go inside. That’s what he should have done.

 

In one leap, he practically flew down, fists balled, talons extracted, landing in front of the stunned girl as he flattened her back to the bricks. 

 

By the scent of them, they were just younglings out for a midnight snack. Though Frank hadn’t had many run-ins with their kind, the younger they were, Frank knew, the thirstier they were. “Hey, old man,” one of them snapped. “Where did you come from?” 

 

Frank turned to the girl long enough to growl, “Get out of here,” and slammed his eyes back to the one approaching him. He was most likely the leader, if they had that sort of thing, and he was the oldest among his little group of delinquents. 

 

The kid sniffed the air around Frank, his nose crumpling instantly. “God, what is that putrid smell?!” 

 

“I think we got ourselves a doggie,” another playfully cackled. “And here I thought we’d ran them all out of town!” 

 

“We did,” the leader ground out, churning his head around to size Frank up. “Where are you from, Fido? And what’s up with the meat suit?” 

 

The younger one scented the air, quizzically cocking his head to one side. “Freddy, do you suppose he’d be a good substitute….” 

 

“Fuck, no! Trust me, they taste worse than they smell, not to mention the hang-over you’ll have in the morning. Still, he’s gotta pay for ruining our treat. Don’t suppose you want her for yourself, huh?” 

 

“I’m not here to start anything,” Frank murmured, balling both sets of claws into his fists. 

 

“Oh, fuck!,” another one burst out in a hysterical cackle. “He’s a vegetarian?! How pathetic!!!” 

 

“The way I see it,” the leader continued, ignoring the various taunts of his cohorts to come face-to-face with Frank, black eyes flickering in the light of the street lamp above. “You owe us lunch.” 

 

Frank’s hackles began to sting his spine. If he got desperate, he might be able to break out of the chemical deterrent and make a quick, if messy work of the bunch. But then he could just imagine the headlines the following day: “Rabid Wolf Rampages through Hell’s Kitchen!” No, he’d try avoiding that, thanks. He took a solid step forward, towering over the fanged whelp, baring his growing fangs in a delighted snarl. “I’d take my offer if you want to live another night, kid. My pallette isn’t as ‘delicate’ as yours, and I ain’t had a real meal in /ages/.” 

 

The first blow came from one of the lackeys. Frank raised a hand, shielding his face as another fist connected with his rib-cage. He howled, whirling around to flatten two of the smallest ones to the ground. By the time they hit the pavement, another had jumped atop Frank’s shoulders and tearing at his throat. Frank slammed him against the wall with a pained groan before detecting yet another figure standing in the rain.

 

“Let him go!”

 

The leader stood up with a snicker. “Well I’ll be. Another stray?” 

 

“Dunno boss, this one smells different…” 

 

/Fuck./ Frank’s heart fell to his knees. What the fuck was the kid doing out of the room? How did he know where Frank was? He stood half in the alleyway, half in the street, his face partially hidden by the gray hoodie he wore. His pajama bottoms were soaked at the ankles down to his tennis shoes. 

 

“Ya fucking kiddin me?” One of them practically shouted, hands on his hips as he chortled at the display before him. Matt was smaller than most his age, and could easily be mistaken for a highschooler. “How many of you freaks are there?” 

 

The leader took a long drag of Matt’s scent before tilting his head Frank’s way. “This your half-breed?” 

 

Frank stopped one of the minions mid-swing, bringing his knee up into the guy’s groin and dumping him onto the growing pile of bodies. He could hear Matt murmuring “Half-breed?,” trying out the strange phrasing on his own lips. 

 

“Never mind that,” Frank muttered to the lanky leader. “Seems to me you’ve got bigger problems.”

Matt’s foot came flying through the air, and for just a moment, Frank couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. Matt was compact but muscular, completing a full spin before sending the guy into the nearest lamppost and making sparks go off overhead. Frank considered lecturing him as they went back-to-back, wiping the street with their undead carcasses, but decided it could wait, at least until after everyone was down for the count. 

 

Frank was positive he’d never seen anything so graceful and deadly, and it seemed that when the foe wasn’t half-ton canines, he could hold his own pretty well. He still needed Frank’s intervention occasionally. Frank knew to protect his neck, and unsurprisingly the kid didn’t know any better. 

 

Still, that protective need drove straight through Frank’s heart, as every hit that landed on Matt simultaneously startled and infuriated him, goaded all the more by the fact that the kid thought he was just in some basic street fight. At last they stood in the center of the pile, panting and bruised, fists clenched. Frank had enough sense to retract his claws before Matt noticed (he hoped.) Frank’s eyes flickered up the fire escape, and he grabbed Matt’s hand as he sprang towards it. “Come on. Gotta get out of here before they get back up.”

 

Matt let out a stifled laugh as he followed along, hopping over the railing and keeping on Frank’s heels as they climbed. “Oh, I don’t think they’re waking up for a long, long time.”

 

“You’d be surprised,” Frank murmured as he offered a hand down to him once they reached the top of the building and made their way across, back to the hotel. 

 

* * * * *

 

“Owhhh,” Matt hissed as Frank pressed a cold, wet cloth to his eye. 

 

“Yeah, that little fat one got you pretty good, didn’t he?” 

 

Matt yanked the cloth away with a playful glare as he followed Frank’s movements around the bathroom. Frank had a few good knicks himself, ones he leaned into the mirror to inspect. “Wait,” Matt murmured, dropping the cloth to tend to a wound on Frank’s shoulder blade. It was particularly deep, and it was Frank’s turn to let out a pained grunt as Matt picked up a fresh towel and pressed into it. “This one’s pretty bad.”

 

“Nah, it’ll heal up. They all do.” Matt could feel Frank’s gaze fall to Matt’s bare chest, to the place where he’d wrapped bandages over his broken ribs not a week before. He held his breath as Frank laid his warm, thick fingers over the skin there, inspecting it. “Yours too, apparently.” 

 

“I’ve--” Matt swallowed, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks as he squirmed away a little on the countertop where he was perched. “I’ve always been a quick healer,” he explained. 

 

“Yeah, that’s what you said.” Matt’s attentions went to Frank’s plush, full mouth as it dropped open, remembering the velvety-smooth feel of them beneath his fingers. Frank’s hand was warming the spot where his ribs were, so big and wide it nearly covered them. “I, uh…” That plump tongue flicked out, wetting the surface of his lips. “Those good Murdock genes, huh?”

 

Matt’s eyes fluttered. “I--I guess.”

 

Frank pulled away suddenly, the warmth between their bodies fading, and Matt slumped against the mirror as he returned to nursing his eye. “I uhm…” 

 

“What did the one guy mean, half-breed?”

 

Frank shrugged. “Not sure.” It was a blatant lie. His heart skipped as soon as his mouth opened, and Matt scowled. Before he could decide whether or not to call Frank out on it, Frank countered with a question of his own. “How did you know where I was?” 

 

Matt tapped his ear. 

 

“Oh, yeah. That’s right.” Frank shredded a hotel towel into thick strips, winding them around his badly bruised knuckles. “Well, just so you know, I had it handled.” 

 

Matt’s eyes rolled back in his head. “Suuuure you did.”

 

Frank scoffed. “What, you don’t believe me? I’ve been takin’ care of myself just fine for a long time now.” 

 

“Says the guy who lives in the middle of the woods and lives off wild pig.” 

 

Frank shrugged, a devious grin beginning at the corner of his mouth. “It’s about everything I need.” 

 

“Yeah well, you still wouldn’t gotten your ass handed to you if I hadn’t shown up.” Matt hopped off the counter and strode off into the living room, content to lett Frank stew on that thought. He scooped up a clean pair of sweatpants and felt Frank’s eyes land on his back as he pulled them on. 

 

“So lemme ask you something,” he murmured, arms folded in front of his chest as he leaned against the doorway. “What are you hoping to accomplish? You know, when you get back home?” 

 

“Easy,” he replied, pulling the waist-cord tight and tying it in place. “I’m going to do what so far my Dad and his cop friends have failed to do. I’m going to find my mother’s killer.” 

 

Frank clamped a hand on the back of his head, scratching nervously. (Matt concluded that he sucked at trying to play nonchalant) “Yeah, I get it, kid, I do. Thing is...it’s not always so black and white, you know? Like, what if...what if your Mom was some kind of target for something? And you just….just going in and stirring shit up? You could get hurt.” 

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Matt mumbled as he stowed his soiled clothes in the plastic laundry bag and flipped open the covers on the couch. “Someone else could get hurt if I let it go. Besides, Frank. My Mom was a really cool person. What happened to her…whatever it was….she deserves justice.” 

 

Frank’s eyes narrowed, his aura seeming to grow in the shadow it stood in. The whole room was shrinking around him. “Yeah, and you could get hurt, Matt. Not someone else, *you*.” His voice had grown dark, too, all the playfulness seemingly sucked out of it. 

 

“Yeah, and I don’t see how that’s your problem.”

 

Frank shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “It is my problem, Matt. I didn’t pull you out of that mess just to see you get--” 

 

“Yeah, that’s another thing.” Matt spun around, angling himself towards Frank. “What mess did you pull me out of? When did you pull me out of it? Did you see what happened to me, to my Mom? Did you see the wolves, Frank? Did you…” Matt chewed on his bottom lip, feeling the tears threatening to spill out again. “Did you see what they did to her? Or did I imagine that?” 

 

Frank raised both hands, almost as if surrendering. “Look...look, all I know is that you were in the woods, okay, and you-you needed my help. I don’t know where you came up with this whole… “wolf”...thing, but---”

 

“Liar,” Matt rasped. 

 

Frank did a slow blink. “Wh-what?”

 

“You’re a fucking liar. You’re just the same as the rest of them. You know so much more shit than you’re letting on, and you know what, Frank, I was willing to let most of that slide?! But just out and out *lying* to me?” Matt shook his head, feeling the rage that he’d worked so hard to restrain boil to the surface again. He shook his head slowly, letting out in a whisper, “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

 

Frank tossed his head to the side, letting out a bitter laugh. “Let’s get one thing straight, kid. I don’t owe you *anything*.” 

 

“You know something? You’re right! You don’t! You did more than enough, maybe even more than you *should* have! Maybe you should have let me die in the woods...m-maybe…” 

 

Frank’s resolve faltered, his voice once again becoming gentle. “That’s--look, that’s not what I meant…”

 

Matt slammed his body down on the couch, throwing the covers over his face to be sure the older man didn’t see the tears. “Just take me home, Frank. You won’t have to deal with me again after this. I promise.” 

 

He heard Frank pace aimlessly for a few solid moments as he chewed on his words. Finally letting out a sigh of exasperation, he turned to slide the door to the bedroom open, uttering a harsh “Fine with me.” before disappearing on the other side. 

 

As the lock slid into place Matt winced, a tear spilling out onto the pillow. 

 

* * * * *

 

The ride back was silent. The hours back to Ypiseick seemed to crawl by. Matt buried himself in his Ipod, beginning with listening to the lectures he’d recorded over the last semester of school and switching it to his progressive metal compilation before they’d crossed into Michigan. He buried his face near the window. Maybe Frank thought he was being overdramatic. Matt couldn’t really give a shit less what the man was thinking at that point. He just wanted to be over and done with it. 

 

They got back shortly after dark. His Dad was already gone. He couldn’t be bothered to stick around even when they lost his Mom, why the fuck would Matt think he’d stay to see him home? Matt climbed the porch steps with the final box from the truck, intent to just close the door and be rid of the mysterious man from the woods forever. Like, good riddance, asshole. 

 

A hand flying out above Matt’s head stopped the path of the door, and Frank leaned in suddenly. Matt spun around, box-in-hand. “What?” 

 

“I…” Frank started working that plush mouth of his and it made Matt burn with fury. “I just wanted to say, uh…” 

 

Matt raised an eyebrow. 

 

“I’m...I’m really glad to have met you, Matt Murdock.” 

 

Matt swallowed hard. Inexplicably, as much as he couldn’t *wait* to rid himself of the man, he felt as if an arrow had suddenly pierced straight through his chest. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, nodding sharply before proceeding through the doorway and hearing the sharp “clack” of the screen door as it slammed closed. 

 

The truck rumbled off down the road just moments later, and out of Matthew’s life forever. 

 

* * * * *

 

“Morning, sunshine.”

 

Frank’s eyes fluttered open to picture a tall, dark-eyed man sitting cross-legged at the end of his couch. He must have dozed off as soon as he’d gotten back. He had a small headache, probably from the altercation in the alleyway, and the cuts and bruises left him stiff and sore as he shifted beneath the thin sheet. The smell of maple syrup and butter clung to the air. 

 

“I made pancakes. And bacon, of course.” 

 

“Mmmh. What time is it?” Frank rolled over as a sliver of sunlight spilled into his vision, burying his head in the pillow. 

 

“Ten. And you look like shit.” Billy’s nose crinkled as he ran a hand through Frank’s hair. “Smell like it, too.” He tugged on the tight curls, pulling Frank’s head back and exposing the bite wounds etched into his neck. “Oooh, ran into some blood suckers in the big apple?” 

 

“How’d you know about that?,” Frank gruffed, swatting his hand away and slumping forward with a groan.

 

“I know everything about you, Frank,” Billy chimed. “Now are you gonna come to the table or am I going to have to spoon-feed you?” 

 

“Mmmrgh. Coming.” 

 

Frank ate in silence, staring across from Billy, eyeing him when he thought he wasn’t looking. The man infuriated him to no end. He hated what Billy did and everything Billy stood for, still they were mates (or had been, at least) and that had to count for something. Frank didn’t mind Billy randomly showing up uninvited, as long as he was alone. It was bad enough being a lone wolf without being reminded that his ex-lover was now Alpha over his former pack. 

 

Billy was born to lead. He was better at it than Frank. It was little surprise that they’d decided to fall in with Billy after the breakup. That suited Frank just fine. They were flesh-eaters, and he just couldn’t convince them otherwise. He saw no point in ending human life. Besides, pig was just as good, far more abundant and a hell of a lot less risky. He took a bite off the thick strip of bacon and couldn’t help but make a face while savoring it. Charred to perfection.

 

“So, how is your little red-head?,” Billy piped up, crossing his legs beneath the table.  

 

Frank snorted. “Don’t call him that.” 

 

Billy shrugged. “Fine. It’s...just that I’m sure I’ve never see you be so...attentive to anybody before, at least not since your wife and kids. Even I can’t compare to the brat, it seems.” 

 

Frank stuffed a half-stack of pancakes to one side of his mouth and wiggled his fork at him. “You jealous, Billy? Of some kid?” 

 

Billy stiffened in the chair momentarily, before tossing his head to one side and letting out a snicker. “Please, Frank. Don’t flatter yourself.” 

 

“Okay,” Frank mumbled between bites. “Then what are you doing here?” 

 

The false confidence fading just a hint, Billy dropped his smile. “Is it really so hard to believe I actually give a shit about you?”

 

Frank looked deep into the black abyss of Billy’s eyes, finding himself just the slightest bit lost in how beautiful the man truly was. “Sometimes,” he murmured, his gaze drifting to the crisp fall morning outside the little cabin, “I wonder.” 

 

After breakfast, Frank scrubbed the few dishes there were while Billy entertained himself with Frank’s waistline, dipping his slender fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans and tugging playfully on the button, threatening to pop it open. “Don’t,” Frank hushed. 

 

“Mmmm, c’mon, not even for old time’s sake?,” Billy was nearly as tall as Frank and had no trouble pressing his lips to Frank’s neck and nibbling. 

 

“Billy. Fuck. I mean it.” Frank bucked back against the slender pair of legs and Billy laughed. 

 

“You used to do this shit to me all the time, remember? I’d be elbow-deep in engine parts and you’d be teasing me to oblivion…” 

 

“That was when I liked you,” Frank ground out. His hands came up out of the water, slicked and soapy to grab hold of Billy’s forearms, wrenching him away with a sharp shove. “Before I knew what you were. What you are.”

 

“We’re the same, Frankie,” Billy hummed into his clavicle, tongue flicking out to lap at the sharp dip behind the bone. “You just need a little reminding.” With hands stronger that they should have been, Billy flattened Frank against the sink, dropping to his knees in front of him.

 

“Jesus, Billy, you’re better than this.” 

 

“Oh, I’m not begging, baby,” Billy corrected, expertly popping the button on Frank’s fly and working the zipper down with his teeth. “But /you/ will be.” 

 

Frank should have tried harder. He knew it. He knew he was allowing Billy to use him, and he was using Billy. Even as Billy brought him out and teased and licked him to standing, that wasn’t the mouth that Frank was dreaming of. Billy’s head bobbed back and forth, bringing Frank all the way into his mouth, angling him down the tight wetness of his throat. Frank threw his head back, gathering that feather-soft black hair between his fingers and squeezing it into his fist until Billy let out a high-pitched moan. 

 

Visions of a certain red-head danced through Frank’s mind. He tried not to think of it, knew it was wrong. He was just a kid. It would be so different. His kisses would be light and hesitant and never quite enough, fanning the heat of Frank’s flame with experimental tastes and a roaming, lithe little tongue. He envisioned an auburn head of hair down there, bobbing back and forth between his legs, that perfect, pouty mouth working his shaft and drinking down all the honey that he could make. 

 

Billy came back up for air, flattening himself against Frank’s rock-hard length, sharing the taste of him as he pulled Frank in for a hot, hard kiss. “You ain’t here right now, are you?,” Billy rasped heavily. Even as Frank pulled him in tight, spinning Billy around to hoist him up onto the countertop and rut his naked length between Billy’s jean-clad legs, he knew where Frank’s mind was at. “Your body is here,” Billy reached between them again to cup his hot, weeping shaft, “Your cock is here. But you’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” He let out a taunting chuckle between Frank’s hard kisses as Frank wrestled with the buckle on Billy’s pants. 

 

“I liked you better when your mouth was full of somethin’,” Frank grumbled, freeing Billy’s long legs with a violent jerk before slamming their bodies into each other, shoving Billy into the cupboard so hard the cups rattled. 

 

“You know I’m right. C’mon, Castle, what’s that freckle-faced preschooler got that I don’t?” 

 

“Everything,” Frank admitted, slicking his fingers with spit and jamming them between Billy’s cheeks. 

 

Billy bit back a pained cry of delight, dragging Frank’s tight black tee shirt up and over his head, dog tags chiming. “That’s right big boy, gimme all you got.” Frank slid his fingers inside, wiggling them around in the tight heat of his body as Billly begged. “Fuck, Frank….MMmmnng….” 

 

Those long legs enveloped Frank’s waist, coiling around him like a vice, flattening Billy’s weeping length against Frank’s stomach. “I hate you,” Frank growled as he lined himself up with Billy’s puckered entrance. 

 

Billy gasped, his mouth hanging open, nails etching across Frank’s back as Frank pushed in. “Ah---! Mmm….I know…” 

 

* * * * *

  
  


Frank’s absence turned out to be a very good thing, Matt thought. Without the odd feelings that this man brought out of him, Matt was free from distractions and could focus on his research. Thankfully, his mother had advocated for a braille computer and printer in the public library. He spent days in the basement of the building that was the former schoolhouse,  researching unsolved murders and accidents and anything that jumped out at him as suspicious. Not surprisingly, there wasn't much.  Ypseic was and always had been a quiet town with very few problems,  at least on the outside. 

 

Matt had promised himself he would stay away from the conspiracy theories and the legends that circulated the town, but it seemed the few disappearances there were went hand in hand with the supernatural, mostly on account of the people making the reports. After all, boredom breeds creativity and there wasn't a place quite as boring as Ypsiec.  

 

It didn't take long for the librarian to peek out from around her desk and show interest. She approached cautiously,  most likely knowing just who's son Matt was and just what he was doing there.  “Ya know,  Mr. Murdock,” she began.  “There's only so much dead people can tell you.” she adjusted her glasses, peering down at him with a secretive smile. “Now, the living? That’s another story entirely.” 

 

“What are you suggesting?” 

 

“If you’re looking for someone who knows the ins and out of ‘Ypsie, someone who remembers the history…” Her voice trailed off as she nodded her head towards the direction of town. “You’ll want to talk to Mrs. Arla Fobin. She’s the wife of the former Mayor.” 

 

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Ypsie had a Mayor?” 

 

She nodded, her smile widening. “Yep. Up until 1952. Ypseick was a big lumber town back then. Lots of folks were coming through here from all sorts of places in search of work. And they found it, too. But that’s not all they found. Go see Arla. She’d love to tell you about it. But…” She brought a finger to her lips, her smile suddenly fading. “Don’t tell anyone I sent you.” 

 

Matt nodded. “Not a word, I promise. So...where does Mrs. Fobin live?” 

 

* * * * *

 

The glass door chimed and slid open, bringing with it the smell of lemon cleaner and canned peaches. Matt adjusted the strap on his messenger bag, bringing it closer to his body. He’d never been in a nursing home before. The atmosphere, on first impression, was actually very pleasant. The hum of happy conversation filled the background, along with light guitar music. 

 

He checked his watch. “Three fifty-two,” It chimed. He scanned the empty seats in the corridor. He was eight minutes early, so perhaps Mrs. Fobin hadn’t yet made it to the foyer. A lanky, tall-legged man walked up, hair slicked back, a friendly smile on his face as he extended a hand to him. “Hi. You must be Matt Murdock.”

 

Matt echoed the smile, clasping the man’s hand in a friendly shake. “And you are..?” 

 

“Oh! I’m the one you spoke to on the phone. The name’s Billy. Billy Russo.”   


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt gets closer to the truth, to Frank...and to danger.

_ On a hot summer night,  would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?”-Paradise By The Dashboard Light, by Jim Steinman _

 

Something was off. Matt wasn't sure if it was the way the tall, lanky nurse carried himself (an obvious saunter to his wide gait) or how he talked (with a constant forced smile in his voice,  tongue planted firmly in-cheek) but he was the wrong kind of mysterious. He was nice enough--shaking Matt's hand and even offering him his arm. There weren’t many people who picked up on Matt's blindness right away, and fewer still who'd be so open as to literally lend him a hand. While most people gave away their dark side by being closed off, there was something about the man's openness that was unnerving. Matt shook off the feeling, shoving his preconceptions to the back of his mind as he took his arm and followed him down the corridor.  It was probably just his nerves. He still couldn't trust his instincts: the life he had known was no more, he'd left it lying twisted and torn at the bottom of that ravine. It'd be months, years, maybe more time than he could comprehend before he'd return to his senses. 

 

The smell of fresh cut sunflowers filled the room as they entered. Sunlight streaming in from the windows warmed Matt's face and made it seem warmer than it actually was outside. A slender figure sat in the corner if the room, an intricately woven afghan covering her lap. “Miss Arla,” the man named Billy sing-songed. “Your visitor is here.”

 

Hr wrinkles were so deep-set Matt could read the lines of her face as she scowled up at the man named Billy. An odd way to greet one of the nurses, Matt thought, but then again he imagined he'd probably feel close to the same way if he were surrounded by people shoving meals and pills at him round-the-clock.

 

“Now you don't have to say anything you don't want to say,” Billy murmured, lowering his lips to her ear and whispering so low that if Matt didn't have sensitive hearing he might have missed it,  “Remember our little talk.” He gave her shoulder a small squeeze. 

 

“Go to hell,” she grumbled. 

 

Billy barked out a laugh, flashing a toothy grin Matt's way. “She's such a kidder.” 

 

Matt adjusted the strap on his messenger bag and waited till Billy rounded the corner to approach her. “Uhm,  Mrs. Fobin?” He offered a hesitant hand out to her, surprised when she shook it with the fervor of a businessman. “Oh. Uhm, I’m---”

 

“You’re Jack’s boy. I know. “ Then she added with a sour lilt to her voice, “And I see you already had the pleasure of meeting Russo. “

 

“Yeah,” Matt mumbled,  rubbing the back of his neck. “He seems… special. “

 

Arla let out a gruff chuckle, crossing her legs beneath the afghan and sliding back into the chair with a shrug.  “You get used to him. Don’t have much of a choice in the matter, now do I? Well, enough of that. I’m sure you didn't come here to listen to the complaints of an old lady. What can I do for you Mr. Murdock?”

 

Matt unlatched the leather flap of the bag, rummaging around for the papers inside. The librarian had been nice enough to paperclip copies of regular print to the ones in braille, in hopes that if he slipped and said anything crazy-sounding it'd be corroborated by one of the hundreds of news articles he’d spent weeks pouring over.  

 

They spent hours going over the details. There wasn't a whole lot there, as with any conspiracy theory (God, Matt hated calling it that) but the trickle of little details adding up made it all the more viable. Things like dog tracks and hair being found at scenes of accidents. People disappearing without a trace. Even what had happened to Frank Castle’s family seemed suspicious: both Frank's wife and the driver of the other vehicle were found with superficial claw marks. As crazy as it sounds, and Matt agreed that it did, it was almost as if they had been pulled out of the vehicle…Matt shuddered to think why.  

 

“I-I know how it sounds,” Matt sat in the middle of the circle of papers, his throat having run dry.  “I know it all seems impossible. And you’re going to think I’m crazy, but--”

 

A boney hand reached out,  grabbing his chin and wrenching his face to meet hers.  “It’s all true,” she whispered harshly. 

 

Matt's heart leapt in his chest.  To have someone listen for once, not try and shut him up, not make some stupid joke or laugh at him. At last, to be believed!!---

 

“And ought to keep your mouth shut.”

 

“Wh--?”

 

“Same as we all should,” she snapped, giving his face a little shake to drive her point home. “Because there is good in everything, just as there is bad. If you expose this, if you… if you bring it to light, you're going to get laughed at, sure. But you know what else will happen? You'll bring in the thrill seekers and the demonologists and the paranormal researchers with their cameras and video and then they're the ones getting it next.”

 

Matt felt betrayal boiling him alive. He had been right!! There was something out in the woods!! So he hadn't imagined the thing that had jumped in front of his Mom's SUV! Or the pack that had ripped her out of his arms! That had nearly taken him, too. Why would these things--wolves,  dogs, whatever they were--be allowed to live so closely if they were truly the ones causing all the deaths and disappearances?

 

His mind drifted to the thought of the biggest one,  the tallest shadow in the forest, his bulky tail swishing behind him like a ship's rudder, the way his enormous head felt pressed against Matt's chest. How safe he felt atop its back. It didn’t add up. 

 

“---you listening, young man?” His attention drifted back to reality, to turning little lady jogging his brain with the strength of an ogre. “ You go looking for these things, you may just find them. Your Daddy already had to bury his wife, now don't make him bury you,  too. “

 

“Y-yes,  Ma’am.” Matt quickly jammed his papers back into his bag, his heart racing ten miles a minute. “Thank you. Thank you so much. “

 

Arla eyed him with a concerned look.  “Mh-hm.”

 

Matthew burst out of the doorway and down the hall, making a beeline for the parking lot. He slammed into Billy's shoulder, offering him a quick if off-handed apology before disappearing out the door and down the two-track to his father’s house.  

  
  


* * * * *

 

This was a stupid idea. It'd never work. Matt chewed on the inside of his lip as he made his way to the treeline just beyond their property, shrugging the strap of his duffel bag higher onto his shoulder and listening to the crunch of the frozen leaves beneath his tennis shoes.The days were getting longer, the nights colder, and within a matter of weeks snow would be covering the ground. A quick Google search had brought up some basic information about wolves.  They prefer hunting at night in large packs. 

 

He supposed for a moment that he should have been afraid.  After all, he was alone, armed only with one of his his Dad's retired service revolver, which he hoped would be enough to scare off any potential attack. He didn't want to kill the creatures. He didn't blame them for what had happened. They were just doing what wolves do.  

 

If that was, in fact, what they were. 

 

He took a deep breath and stepped into the thicket. It was instantly darker beneath the trees. Even stripped bare of their leaves, the towering maple and twisted pines reached out towards one another and blocked out any warmth the dying light provided. His steps became slower,  softer. He wasn't avidly  _ trying  _ to get killed, after all. And if things got too dangerous he wanted to give himself the best chance possible for escape.  

 

Matt pulled out a pocket knife, flicking open the small blade. Wolves were excellent trackers as well,  and they could smell the scent of their prey for miles away. He but down harder on his lip as he drew it across his palm with a whimper, smattering fresh, warm blood on the leaves below.  

 

And he waited.  

 

He drew his corduroy jacket tighter around his shoulders, letting out a shiver as the sun died and the rigid fall temperature rolled in. “Come on, “ he murmured. He'd really hoped to meet the towering wolf again, the big sweet one who'd let him hitch a ride on his back. Okay, so the wolf knew where Matt lived. Or maybe it was just a coincidence. Or maybe that part had been a figment of his imagination. Either way, he knew that this was definitely the one he wanted. He found a hollow log, testing it with his foot before determining it was stable enough to sit on. He checked the ammo in the revolver and slide it back into the holster. As the minutes passed by into hours,he began to realize just what a stupid idea this was. After all, he had no proof.  No viable evidence that he was doing anything out in the middle of the frozen woods at night besides losing his goddamn mind. 

 

He hit his watch and it chimed,  “11:42pm”. Letting out a defeated sigh, he pushed up from the log, turning back towards the edge of the woods which from his calculation was not more than 200 feet off.  

 

“Mmmrph. “ He was stopped dead in his tracks by the familiar throaty rumble. Matt turned his head slowly towards the sound, sucking in a breath of frozen midnight air as the butterflies in his stomach turned to stone.  

 

The creature wasn't far off, maybe 100 yards or less, standing atop an embankment and staring back at Matt. 

 

Matt cleared his throat, gingerly turning to face the beast, one hand reaching out in the darkness. “H---hey,” he muttered softly.  

 

“Mmmrph.” The wolf let out another displeased snort. Unlike the last encounter, he made no motion towards Matt. Just kept glaring silently at him, almond-shaped eyes narrowed.

 

Matt felt silly. Obviously the creature could not understand him. But just as owners talked soothing cooes to their pets, he had hopes that his good intentions would come through in his tone. He reached in his pocket with the other hand, fingering a piece of jerky. “It's okay, boy. Here. See?” He tossed the treat halfway between them. It landed on the frozen pile of fallen leaves.  

 

The animal cocked his head towards it momentarily. He eyed it while Matt waited with stolen breath. It wasn't long before the creature turned his attentions to the crouching boy and hopped down the slight embankment. Matt froze, debating how much of what happened between them had been a dream or hallucination.  

 

The creature’s nostrils flared as it breathed in the scent of the blood still pattering on the ground. He strode past the discarded treat and gently nuzzled Matt's open palm. His nose was cold and wet like a dog’s, the spiked ears atop his massive head pricked forward with intrigue. A thick, wet tongue spooned the pad of his hand and Matt jumped as it licked a thick stripe of drool up the deep cut.  

 

“It’s… it's okay.” Matt tried a small smile. “Just a scratch. “ He turned his hand over as the wolf meticulously cleaned. To Matt's surprise, all pain fled and the skin…  had to be his imagination… the skin had already begun to heal. With his other hand, he reached between the tip of its ears and scratched lightly. The creature let out a happy gurgling sound and shook its spiked hackles all the way to the tip of its tail. Matt marveled; he towered over the boy on all fours, yet here he was, docile and doting, gently tending to the cut. “Couldn't have been you, “ Matt murmured. “You're so sweet. Are you someone's dog?”

 

Matt noted the talon-like claws extending from his dinner-plate sized paws and hummed thoughtfully. “No. I don't suppose so.” 

 

Satisfied with the job he'd done on Matt's hand, the creature padded forward to rake it's giant head beneath Matt’s chin, one fluffy ear tickling his nose. Matt wriggled and let out a soft laugh,  responding in kind with a hearty scratching on both sides of its head. All fear was gone out from him.There was nothing scary about this gigantic wolf-thing. In fact, Matt couldn't shake off the feeling of closeness and familiarity he felt when near him,  like a big warm blanket. As if he'd known him before… 

 

Suddenly a blood-curdling howl broke out amongst the trees surrounding the little alcove. The wolf-creature craned his head,  sniffing deeply into the frozen air and letting out a deep, rumbling growl. 

 

Matt froze. “Wh-what is it, boy?”

 

It was followed by another, deeper moan. The cries reached high into the darkness, joining together as one chilling song. There might have been a dozen of them, maybe more. At a distance of less than 500 yards. And with them came a putrid smell, one that curdled the air around them. It immediately brought Matt back to the night if the accident, when that scent hung so thick around the SUV that he could barely breathe. The drops of blood had called to them all.  Matt straightened up, digging in his pocket for his Dad's revolver, but the creature in front of him punched his nose into Matt’s rib-cage and flattened himself to the ground with a demanding grunt. 

 

“No,” Matt huffed. Not this time. There would be no running away. He'd have to face them all head-on if he wanted to get to the truth.  

 

The wolf let out a sharper, more forceful grunt, nosing Matt's thigh.  

 

“No!”

 

With a sharp huff the creature reared up, practically gut-punching Matt with its massive head and catapulting him onto his back. Without warning, they were racing through the trees. Instinctively Matt gathered the wolf’s hackles into his balled fists before he could be thrown to the ground. He kept his head flush to the creature’s shoulders as they flew at breakneck speed, the rumble of the following pack approaching fast behind. 

 

Matt jabbed the wolf's side with his heel. “No! S-stop!”

 

They had reached the edge of the woods when the creature finally did, his massive lungs puffing out frigid clouds of air. With a grunt, he threw Matt to the ground, depositing him just feet from the back gate. Matt couldn't make sense of why, but he was so furious at him! It might have been his only chance to confront the things that killed his mother. He kicked the ground in front of the towering beast, letting out a bark of frustration. “Why? You stupid dog!! Why would you…?!”

 

The thing hung his head, his tail swishing back and forth gently as Matt vented. 

 

Matt soon dissolved into overworked laughter, slapping a hand over his face and sinking to the ground. “Wow, I really have gone off the deep end.” As he wiped away a tear of frustration he added, “I'm talking to a dog. Or whatever you are.”

 

As the creature turned to head back to the woods, a sense of trepidation came over Matt. “Stop,” he ordered,  springing up from the ground just in time to give its tail a sharp tug. Whatever those creatures in the woods were, they very well might go after the big, gentle giant. “Stay,” Matt tried again, his voice softer. He slid to his knees, patting the ground beside him,  hesitating for a moment as the wolf turned back around to stare at him. 

 

With what Matt guessed could only be a sigh of defeat, the creature coiled up into a ball behind Matt, encompassing him completely with his shaggy hair and his warmth and dragging his massive tail up over Matt's shoulder as he slid to the ground with a huff.  

 

Matt patted his head. “Good boy. Sorry I yelled at you. It's been a rough few weeks.”

 

The night air couldn't touch him. Surrounded by the circle of warmth, listening to the steady thrum of his strangely familiar heartbeat, Matt's eyes grew heavy. He struggled to stay awake, shaking his head as he drowsily scratched his newfound friend behind the ears and up on his muscular hocks, but it wasn't long before he succumbed to the soothing presence if his mighty protector and drifted off into a heavy sleep… 

 

* * * * * 

 

Matt had almost expected it when he woke up in his own bed to the chime of his alarm. All signs of the big friendly wolf were now just a fond memory. Matt knew better than to think it had all been a dream though, and traced the healing cut on his hand as a reminder. He slipped out of the covers, a quick pat-down confirming that he was in the same clothes as the night before, and punched the alarm off.  

 

He skipped down the banister, swiping a bagel from the bowl on the counter and taking a big bite. “Morning Dad.”

 

Jack flipped over some bacon on the stove, and leveled a raised eyebrow at his son.  “Morning, Matty. You're…. Unusually chipper.”

 

Matt shrugged. “It's a nice day. Hey, Dad can I ask you something?”

 

“Anything,  kiddo.”

 

Matt took another bite out of the bagel and shoving it to one side of his cheek said,  “What do you know about Frank Castle?”

 

“F-Frank?” His Dad piped, mid-cough. “He’s a family friend, Matty. I thought you two were uh...on the rocks?” 

 

“Mom never mentioned him,” Matt continued, ignoring the latter comment. 

 

“Well, she probably never had reason to. I mean, they sort of lost touch after high school. He was a grade or two shy of her. I mean, he enlisted right after and came back with a wife and babies. He’d drop by the station occasionally. They settled down just outside of town...and the rest is history. I guess he sold the house after the accident. Bought some little shack on the east end of Chassis Lake. Why do you ask?” 

 

Matt cracked the fridge open long enough to take two large swigs of orange juice. “You think you could run me by his place before you head to the Station this morning?” 

 

Jack chewed on his lip while he transferred the sizzling bacon to the paper-towel covered plate. “Uh...you sure that’s a good idea? I mean…” 

 

“I don’t get it,” Matt interjected, adjusting his glasses on the ridge of his nose. “I mean, first you were all about us hanging out. Even let the guy drive me to New York. But now?” 

 

“I just want you to be careful, Matty.” Jack put his coffee mug down on the table a little harder than he should have. It landed with a resounding ‘TUNCK’. “People have started talking. Saying that you’re researching stuff at the library till all hours of the night? That you’re--you’re knocking on doors and harassing the locals--” 

 

“I’m not /harassing/ anyone, Da--” 

 

Jack’s hand went around Matt’s forearm, pulling his son in, his lips level with Matt’s ear. “You need to be careful.” He released him with a firm push, one that made Matt stumble backwards. “I get it, kiddo. I do. You’re looking for answers. You miss Mom. I miss her too, I miss her like crazy. There’s not been a night I haven’t cried myself to sleep.” 

 

“I wouldn’t know,” Matt stated coldly. “You’re never around nights.” He stopped himself short of asking his Dad where he went--it was an unwritten rule that his mother and he had vowed never to break. He collected himself, hugging his shoulders and leaning against the counter as his Dad refilled his mug. He listened to the uneven pounding of his Dad’s heart as the blood rushed through his veins and winced as the realization hit him. “You’re afraid.”

 

Jack froze. 

 

“Dad. Who is it? What do you know? Who---did someone say something to you?” 

 

“Let it go,” Jack muttered, donning his sheriff's cap. He swiped the keys off the counter as Matt followed him out the door and down the porch steps. Matt knew better than to push. Jack wasn’t a particularly hot-headed man, but being Sheriff his word was law and once Matt began an argument it never ended in his favor. Plus, he still needed his Dad to take him to Frank’s. If anybody knew what was going on in those woods, it’d be the guy who lived in them. Jack let out a displeased grumble as he plucked Matt’s jacket from the outer door handle and tossed it back to him, muttering to no-one in particular that Matt should take better care of his things. 

 

Matt swallowed down the nagging urge to ask more in favor of throwing the jacket over his shoulders and sliding into the passenger side of the Patrol unit. 

 

Matt didn’t recognize a lot of the back roads and two-tracks they took, but his father seemed to know the way well. The cabin was even smaller than Matt had remembered it being, situated on what must have been the very border of town, just a few yards from calm lake waters. They rolled up onto the small gravel lot just as Frank brought his axe down on a felled log. Sweat cascaded off his chest, kicking a mixture of pheromones and musk high into the air. Matt buried his face in his coat hood and prayed his Dad couldn’t see how beet-red it was. His radar working against him, Matt’s imagination kicked into overdrive as he picked up on the outline of stacked muscle and those tall, lean legs. He swallowed hard. 

 

Frank cast a puzzled look between the two, burying the axehead into the wood with a one-handed swing and wiping the sweat off his brow with his forearm. 

 

He wiped his hands with a flannel shirt as Jack rolled the window down. The dog tags jingled and Matt sank further into the seat, all his confidence melting into a puddle at his feet. ‘Morning Officer,” Frank muttered. He craned his neck into the window, having to scoop down on account of his height. Then he gave Matt a sharp nod. “Matt. What can I help you gentlemen with today?” 

 

Jack took his cap off to scratch his receding hairline. “Well, Frank, it seems my boy ain’t finished with you yet.” 

 

Matt’s heart froze in his chest. Why would his Dad say something like that??? That’s--that’s---!!

 

As if reading his thoughts, Frank gave Matt a secretive smile. Matt wondered momentarily how hard it’d be for a 124lb guy to squeeze through the floorboards of a Dodge Charger and just disappear. 

 

“But he’s been pretty nosey with the neighbors lately,” Jack offered unenthusiastically. “So if he gives you any trouble--” 

 

“Dad…!” Matt rasped. 

 

“It’s no trouble at all,” Frank offered. Matt’s eyebrows shot up into his bangs. “I’ll get him back home safe,” he added. Matt wanted to die. He wasn’t some toddler, dammit! He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself--”I always do.”

 

Matt slid out of the car, gingerly closing the door. He’d gotten himself into this mess. He’d have to dig himself out. He thought of the list of the ten-thousand things he was going to grill Frank about, and not *one* came to mind! Why was it like this every time he was around him? Matt felt good and embarrassed and happy and flustered and pissed off all at once. If Frank felt the same way, he didn’t show it. He tossed his shirt over one broad shoulder as the two men exchanged goodbyes and Jack’s cruiser sped off down the dirt road, sending fallen leaves fluttering in its wake. 

 

“C’mon,” Frank offered, gesturing towards the little cabin. A soft puff of smoke was already rolling out of the chimney, and Matt wondered how the man stayed so warm outside in 30 degree weather. He hesitated briefly, recalling his jail break from the last time he was here, but took a step forward when Frank opened the door and gave him a reassuring smile. “You like coffee?” Matt nodded. 

 

It was an acquired taste. Matt’s Mom was an avid hot cocoa and tea drinker and Matt tended to follow suit, but especially in his college life he had discovered the wonders of caffeine, enabling him to stay up well past sundown and study for hours on end. “Do you have any creamer?” 

 

Frank wrinkled that gorgeous crooked nose of his and pushed a small carton of milk his way. It’d have to do. 

 

Before Matt had the chance to dig through the case file that was his brain, Frank was already making conversation, leaning against the kitchen’s one small counter and chattering on about the weather  and the lumber he was stockpiling for the upcoming winter. There was something about the man’s very presence that calmed him. It was as if they’d known each other for years. And for all Matt knew, they had. After all, if he was a family friend, like many of his parents’ acquaintances he’d probably met him as a young child. At any rate, he found it very difficult to concentrate on the specifics of what Frank was telling him because he both smelled and ‘looked’ like a dish of the thickest creme brulee. 

 

“Yer doin’ it again,” Frank said, wiggling his finger Matt’s way. “That staring me down thing. You sure you’re blind kid?” 

 

“Uhm--” Matt snapped to attention. He suddenly wished he hadn’t taken off his coat. There was nowhere to hide and he could feel his face getting hotter by the second. He touched his eyes, felt the flutter of his thick lashes and breathed a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I’m very sure.” 

 

“Sorry,” Frank murmured honestly, “That...that was a shitty thing to say.” 

 

“It’s okay,” Matt insisted. “Sometimes my abilities fool even me.” 

 

“So, anyways…” Frank took a long swig of his piping hot coffee like it was cherry coke . “What did you want to grill me about this time?” 

 

Matt caught the sarcasm in his voice and let out a soft laugh. “I guess I really have been unfair to you haven’t I?” Frank folded his arms in front of his massive chest, running his gaze over Matt with an expression Matt couldn’t quite read. “I uh...I mean, you save me from certain death and take me back to the College and even help me pack. And I…” 

 

“Stop now,” Frank muttered, one smooth finger reaching out to silence Matt’s lips. “I’ve been where you’re at, Red. You just had your family ripped from you. You gotta do what you gotta do. Don’t you apologize for that.” His eyes stared intently down into Matt’s as he added, “Ever.” 

 

Matt swallowed hard. “Okay. So, what do you know about the...the howling?” 

 

Frank’s eyes fluttered as he took a half step back. “What?” 

 

“Did you hear them last night. The...whatever they are. Wolves, I think. I heard them howling from the creek behind my house.” Matt listened intently as Frank’s breathing got a little raspier, his heart beating a little faster. 

 

“Uh, yeah,” he finally said, his tongue flicking out across his wind-dried lips. “Yeah I did. They go off like that sometimes.” Quickly he shrugged and turned back to pour himself another cup of coffee. “It’s a pack that’s been around here for years. Good for keeping the deer population in-check.” 

 

“What kind of deer?,” Matt muttered, slowly spinning his half-drank cup on the grainy wooden table. 

 

“Whitetail, mostly,” Frank guessed. 

 

Matt’s eyes flashed back up into Frank’s. His face fell stoic as the room fell deathly quiet. “What kind of deer, Frank.” 

 

Frank lowered his head, forcing a smile that was simultaneously a little too wide and a little too delayed. “What the fuck you trying to get at, Red?” 

 

Tears stung Matt’s eyes, threatening to spill over as he thought of his mother’s lifeless form as she was dragged through the brush, out of Matt’s arms, out of his life forever. He snapped his gaze forward suddenly, stiffly scrubbing them away with his sleeve. “I’ve done some research, Frank. What happened with my Mom isn’t an isolated incident, is it? There have been others. Some whose bodies were never recovered. I’m not saying you had anything to do with it. But I also don’t buy the idea that you don’t...that you could live here, in the middle of the goddamned woods, and not know *something*. Anything.” 

 

Matt jumped up suddenly, grabbing Frank’s bicep, all hope of keeping his emotions in check shattering with the righteous anger that boiled over. “Is it them, Frank? Why...why don’t we do away with them? Why is everyone acting so afraid? Why can’t we just--” 

 

“Okay, alright,” Frank rasped, shoving Matt back. “You’re nuts, you know that? You’ve officially gone of the freaking deep end. You can’t go around accusing people of shit that--” 

 

“I’m not! Frank, I’m not accusing anyone! If this is about a pack of wolves or dogs or whatever they are, tell me so I can get help! I can call the DNR. They take care of this sort of thing all the time. Maybe--maybe they wouldn’t have to be put down, Frank. Maybe they’d relocate them. What I don’t get is WHY they are being protected! Why is this shit being covered up?? Why aren’t they being *dealt* with? Why aren’t we---”

 

“Stop,” Frank growled, his voice hitting gravel. He grabbed Matt’s arms, shoving him back against the counter. “Stop talking, Red. You’re done. Okay? You’re done. I’m taking you back home.” He jerked Matt towards the door, letting go of Matt with one hand long enough to gather his jacket as he jerked the door open. 

 

Matt slammed it with his foot, spinning backwards towards the door. “No! You understand I can tell you’re lying, right? It’s--it’s all over your face! You’re sweating. Your heart is beating a mile a minute...I can...I can tell these things, Frank! You know what else I can tell?? That you are /innocent/! You’ve had nothing to do with these deaths. What are you hiding for?” 

 

Frank’s attempts to calm Matt only escalated his sense of urgency, as his calloused hands tried gently collecting Matt, he fought back with shoves and punches, any further evidence Matt may have had dissolving into a slur of expletives. Frank finally flattened a hand over his mouth, reducing his protests to whimpers. Matt slid back against the door with a defeated groan, helpless to fend off the much larger, stronger man. 

 

“You done?” 

 

“Mh-hmm.” Matt lied, nodding his head. 

 

Frank slid his hand away slowly, keeping Matt pressed tightly to the door. “Now, yer gonna listen to me. You listening?”

 

Another slight nod.  

 

“I'm gonna take you home,” Frank annunciated each syllable slowly,  shoving the boy’s coat over his shoulders for effect. “And you’re done with this investigative crap. You got me?”

 

Matt sucked in a breath, opening his mouth in protest and Frank's hand returned.  “Mph!”

 

“There’s things you ain't gonna understand no matter how I try to explain ‘em. You're going to have to trust me. You gotta let this go,  Red. I can protect you, but only if you stop digging. Go home, get some sleep.”

 

Matt tore Frank's fingers away. “I don't need your protection!” He shoved him backwards, both hands on his sweat-coated chest, spinning away from the door. 

 

“You will,” Frank growled, following Matt's angry footsteps into the small living area. He towered behind him like the shadow of an oak, his fists flexing.  

 

Matt turned to face him, studying Frank's movements with the tilt of his head. “I can help,” Matt whispered. “I can stop this.”

 

“I know you think that. But believe me kid, there are things in this world that are out of your control.”

 

“Then where do you fall in with all this?”

 

“The less you know, the easier my job is. “ 

 

Matt snickered in disgust.“So now I'm a “job”?” 

 

Frank smirked through his grimace. “If you are, the pay is shit.”

 

Matt worked on the inside of his lip. “Then why didn’t you save my Mom?” He knew it was an unfair question to ask, that the man had likely been miles away from the scene and that he should be grateful to him that he saved his own life, but the anger kept eating him alive. He hated this, hated the feeling of weakness and helplessness that this man made him feel. He blinked back the tears, resenting the fact that that’s all he seemed to do lately. Any mention of her, any passing thought, everything made him want to curl into a ball and die so he could be with her again. He was sure of one thing; grief and hell were two sides of the same coin. 

 

“I would have if I could.” Frank came closer, laying a hand on his shoulder, all roughness and brutality replaced by a gentle caress. Matt felt the conflicting heat of desire rising up in him. (What the fuck was wrong with him??? To feel this for any man, let alone one twice his age?)  “I’ve got no excuse, Red. I failed you.” 

 

Matt blinked down at the wide, soft hand covering his arm. “Frank...did you know me? Y’know, before all this?” 

 

Frank smiled gently, chucking him under the chin. “I knew you as the cute little freckled redhead kid that was always on Maggie’s hip. She loved you, you were her whole world. That’s something no-one can take away.”

 

Matt laughed softly. “I had freckles?” 

 

“Have,” Frank corrected, a velvety rasp entering his tone. Matt swallowed. Frank’s heart was pounding deafeningly, drowning out all other sounds. Frank cleared his throat as if to correct himself, pulling away to tug Matt gently towards the door.  “C’mon, kid.”

 

“I'm not going to stop,” Matt dug in, pulling back ever so slightly. “I'm not going to let this go, Frank. If you know all about the pain of loss, then you know I can't stop till I’ve done everything I can to make sure this never happens to anyone ever again.” 

 

“Bad idea, Red.” Frank had ceased all movement, his body going rigid. “You don't wanna cross me.” For a split second, fear lit up Matt's insides, his stomach doing backflips. 

 

As his mouth often did, it betrayed his interest in self-preservation as he snarked back, “Why do you even care? Who the hell are you protecting, Frank?”

 

The hand that held his wrist clamped down like a vice.  Before Matt knew what had hit him, he was sent spinning, his shoulders flattened against the far wall.  A hard body was crushed against his as he was dragged up the wall by rough hands, a surprisingly soft mouth covering his.  He tried to gasp but it only came out as a tiny squeak, one that had Frank groaning and pressing further into him. “/You/,” came the harsh reply. “I’m protecting you.” 

 

Matt melted against him with a soft sigh, everything about the rock-hard pectorals squeezing down atop his small,  flat chest feeling so perfect, so right. He kissed back timidly at first, tasting Frank's open, waiting mouth and reveling in the guttural moan that rumbled up somewhere deep in his chest.  

 

It was as if someone put a lit match to gasoline, a raging fire building to burst. “Shit, Red,” Frank ground out against his soft little mouth, capturing his bottom lip and sucking on it like candy. 

 

Matt could only whimper back, his reply a mixture of cooes and sighs as their limbs tangled together. Exploring the wide expanse of Frank's shoulders, he dragged his fingernails over the taught, hardened muscle. Frank protected Matt's head from the wall,  raking a hand through that fine, soft mane and tugging his head back gently. 

 

Matt could feel a solid rock growing beneath the fabric of Frank's tactical pants and knew he wasn't much better off himself: his dick was already wetting the inside of his boxer-briefs, the head of his anxious bulge finding Frank's shaft beneath the layers of fabric and rubbing against him.  

 

Frank took his time peppering little bites all the way down Matt's neck to his clavicle, dipping his tongue into the hollow and lapping the taste of it. Matt relaxed into the feeling-- unafraid and more than willing to meet Frank halfway. Matt had kissed girls in his time, even made out with a few, but none of that compared to the fullness and completeness that he felt with Frank. Frank gathered Matt's body beneath his, rutting into him, and Matt just let him. Nothing about it was scary or wrong. Matt wanted this. 

 

Over the pounding of Frank's heart, Matt could make out the faint sound of bare feet padding towards the cabin. He struggled against Frank's advances, delivering a short blow to his stomach that barely jarred him. “Mmmg… “ He wrenched his head away, and Frank only followed, bending Matt backwards to roll his hips into the warmth of Matt's legs. “Fr… Frank… someone’s… “

 

The “snick” of the bolt sliding out from its holder alerted Frank to the presence of an intruder,  but it was too late. It swung open to reveal a tall, lanky man, arms crossed in front of his chest, his hair slicked back, one eyebrow raised.  

 

Frank pulled off Matt, his heat and the closeness of his body leaving the younger man to shiver in the gust of cold air through the door. 

 

“Mr. Matt Murdock,” Billy tisked, slowly shaking his head. 

 

Matt's face lit up bright red. He could feel Frank’s fingers stiffly digging into his arm.

 

“We just keep running into each other,  don't we?”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Somewhere in all that was happening, Billy had discarded the rest of his clothes and was now standing in front of the smouldering ash heap, completely nude. Even without his sight, Matt’s sonar picked up on every contour of his body--he recalled seeing a picture of the statue of David when he was little, and likened it to the feedback his brain was now giving him. Matt felt a wave of inferiority wash over him as his attentions switched from Frank to Billy, back to Frank again. Billy was perfect--flawless, fast and powerful; none of the things Matt was. Matt felt like a fool; how could he have thought for a second that he could compete with /that/?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one, guys, but a lot happens and it's a pivotal point in the story. Things really pick up from here. Thank you so much for reading!

“Got to hand it to you, Frank…” The tall lanky man with the slicked back hair stepped past the open doorway with a smile on his face that made Matt's stomach turn.  “You're a faster mover than I took you for.”

 

Matt’s pulse pounded in his veins. From the angle he was at, he was certain there was not use trying to hide the look of shock and embarrassment written on his face. Frank’s on the other hand, was perfectly calm and steady, as if it was nothing for this guy to come barging his way into his house. Matt slunk away from the wall, raking a hand through his tousled bangs and gathering his coat that had long been discarded on the floor. 

 

“The fuck you want, Russo?” Frank’s scowl was evident from his voice, the words ground out like a warning to the intruder.

 

The man named Billy batted his eyes, his grin only widening. “Last I knew, this was my house too. Or has all your brainpower flooded to your dick?” 

 

Matt tried to mask his shock as best he could, busying himself with his jacket zipper and bending a knee in hopes of partially concealing his dwindling erection. 

 

If Frank was going to deny it, the time was quickly escaping him. As he pushed off the wall, burying a hand in his pocket, he turned to glare at his uninvited guest. 

 

Billy ignored him with a soft snicker, striding to a small cabinet on the other side of the small room and yanking it open. “I don’t suppose you’ve told him that part yet, though,” he continued as he dug around inside. Producing a freshly folded shirt, he launched it over Matt’s head to Frank, who caught it with one-handed precision. “Cover up for Christ’s sake. And you need a shower. You smell.” 

 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Frank baulked. Despite the cutting words and his obvious disdain for the other man, Frank acted with complete compliance, tugging the fresh shirt over his taught biceps and rolling it down the plane of his chest. Even at this new development, Matt felt a longing to touch that chest again, and he hated himself for it as much as he hated Russo for interrupting. “What do you want?” 

 

Billy seemed rather pleased with the little curfuffle he’d made, sprawling out on the shabby little couch with a satisfied huff. “Well, I was hoping we could finish where we left off the other day...but it seems you got started without me.” 

 

Matt’s embarrassment soon gave way to hurt and betrayal as the realization dawned on him. This man lived here. With Frank. And from the sound of things it was more than just a platonic arragement. A mixture of a million emotions spanning from denial to spite to jealousy flashed through his brain without Matt being able to land his finger on a single one that fit. They all felt justifiable. He wasn’t exactly sure the distance to town, but he was confident that he knew the way and that his impeccable sense of direction would fill in the gaps as he went along. 

 

“Matt,” Frank called as he stepped through the door.

 

Unable to bear the wave of anger/jealousy/hatred Matt merely froze in place, holding himself up with one hand on the rickety wooden frame. “No, it’s okay. It’s fine,” Matt lied, his voice breathy. “I...I gotta get going home, so…” 

 

“Matt, wait.” Frank’s booted feet were trotting up behind him as Matt started walking. He had to get away. To run, if he had to. How could he have been so stupid! So foolish! He’d been in a vulnerable place, what with his mom passing, but that was just an excuse and Matt knew it. He /knew/ it! “Matt---it’s---it’s not what---” 

 

“Uh, yeah it is,” Matt shot back, rage giving him the courage to spin on his heel and face him. “Yeah I think it’s exactly /what/.” 

 

“Awww, leaving so soon, Pumpkin?” Billy appeared in the doorway, that satanic grin spread all over his face as he leaned against the porch post. He produced a sucker from his pocket, unwrapping it and popping it into his mouth as the scene before him played out. “I thought we could all have some fun. You know? The more the merrier?” 

 

“Shut your goddamn mouth!,” Frank barked.

 

It wasn’t so much that Frank already had a boyfriend that bothered Matt---but why /him/, of all people???  Billy was scum--less than scum!--and Matt was sure of it. How could a seemingly wonderful, passionate, caring man like Frank end up with a sack of shit like Billy Russo? Matt felt a vice-like grip on his arm dragging him back, and fought against it with all his might. 

 

“Matt, stop. Stop!” 

 

Matt freed himself with a shove that sent Frank back on his heels. “Leave me alone! Okay?! You got what you wanted. I’ll...I’ll never bother you again.” 

 

There came those goddamned tears again, spilling over the rims of his eyes and blurring his senses. Matt wiped at them furiously as he turned a corner in the path, heading out onto the two-track that would take him back into town.

 

“You really should stop him,” he heard Billy’s voice in the distant and Frank’s infuriated growl. “It’s not safe in these woods. You know, bears and mountain lions and all…” 

 

Frank lunged and caught Matt around the shoulders, letting him fight it out, wearing him down. It was no use. Frank was so much taller, so much stronger. He got in a few solid punches to Frank’s solar plexus (just for good measure) before halting his attack, panting and exhausted and too numb to keep fighting. 

 

Frank was out-of-breath, too, and Matt felt a flutter of satisfaction that he’d at least made him break a sweat. “Let….” Frank began, sucking air back into his lungs, “let me take you home. At least. Don’t...don’t put yourself in harm’s way just cuz I’m an asshole.” 

 

As much as Matt hated it, it made sense. Still, even as he slowly turned and reluctantly made his way back down the gravel driveway, he spat back, “I’m not a baby.” 

 

“I know, kid,” Frank murmured. “I know.” He was obviously not in the mood to argue with him, most likely just grateful that Matt stopped, though Matt couldn’t really figure out why he’d ev give a damn. 

 

Let him get eaten by whatever was in these woods. Less for Frank to have to worry about. 

 

“I’ll have breakfast ready when you get back, sugar lips,” Billy taunted as Frank slammed the truck door shut. 

 

The roar of the engine drowned out whatever Billy said next, and Matt was grateful for it. He pretended to stare out the window, focusing on leveling his breathing. Maybe he could forget this ever even happened. It was Matt’s fault, after all. He’d pushed Frank to it. He’d been the one to kiss him back. Frank had kept his distance up until this point; it was Matt who had pressured and pried and goaded him, consequences be damned. He wasn’t going to think about Frank’s body pressed tightly against his or the taste of his mouth still fresh on Matt’s lips. That was over now. In fact, it never happened. Frank belonged to someone else. 

 

Frank didn’t try making conversation. That was probably for the best. The tension was already thicker than pea-soup between them. And Frank most likely knew that no matter what he said, it would have only added chaos to a situation that was already completely fucked, and Matt couldn’t guarantee he would have pulled his punches. 

 

What seemed like an eternity later, they finally rolled up to the house. Matt didn’t wait for the wheels to stop before popping the door open and running as fast as he could the moment his feet hit the grass. “Matt---” Frank called after him. 

 

Matt raced up the steps two at a time, slamming the door closed after him. 

 

He couldn’t stop his senses from hearing Frank’s forehead hit the steering wheel as he muttered out, “/fuck/,” beneath his breath. The truck turned around slowly like a dog with its tail between its legs, rolling back down the ragged little driveway the way it had come. 

 

* * * * * 

 

Frank wasn’t going back to the cabin. No fucking way. He knew that if he did, nothing would be stopping him from planting his fist so far into Billy’s face that he’d feel it straight through to his asshole. He’d gotten what he wanted, after all. The thing that really tore Frank’s insides apart was the thought that Billy was /right/. What the in the history of /shits/ was Frank thinking??? Mat was just a kid! A grieving, confused, /kid/. He rubbed his forehead raw and cranked the window down, letting the frozen fall air cool his overheated skin. 

 

This wasn’t good. He couldn’t let the boy get under his skin like that. Frank had to keep his emotions in check. He’d always been good at that--the best--keeping it together even through losing his wife and kids, his home, his pack. Cutting ties with Billy. (Yeah, he backtracked, cuz that worked out so well). Fuck, this shit right here is why Frank lived alone! He liked being alone! He was good at it He wasn’t going to change the world but fuck if he was going to let the world change him. 

 

Everything had been going along just fine before...this. Frank had almost been fooled when Billy said he swore off eating human flesh. After all, it made sense. Billy always claimed his #1 goal in life was preservation of their pack. There was no better way to do that than to lay as low as fucking possible, and it sure as shit seemed like /not fucking killing people/ would have been a good start! If Frank had known what Billy and the clan were planning...if he’d stayed...maybe he could have prevented it. But now, Billy was Alpha and his word was law. 

 

Before he realized what he was doing, he was turning the truck into the Cherry Water County PD. It was little more than a hollowed-out storage shed that had been converted into an office and dropped way back off the beaten path. It had been there longer than Frank could remember. It seemed the perfect size for the little Department of six (which included the receptionist). The forest-green shack with the tin roof was quiet and quaint. And unassuming. 

 

He didn’t have to sit for long stewing on his thoughts before the poofy blonde bangs behind the desk took notice. A stout woman with spandex leggings and a Police Department t-shirt stepped outside with a friendly wave. “Well don’t just sit there, stranger! Come on in!” 

 

Sadie was the bubblegum-chewing, hoop-earring wearing desk officer and self-proclaimed “face” of the CWCPD. At night, she became a red-haired beauty with the kind of coloring Frank had never seen on a wolf, before or since. Jack may have been the Alpha of the Murdock clan, but Sadie was the matriarch. “Oh it’s been so long,” She sing-songed, reaching her plump arms around his waist and squeezing down with a vice grip. “I didn’t get a chance to say hi during the wake. You seemed busy with lil’ Matthew and I didn’t want to interrupt. Frank, it’s so good to see you! And it really is sweet of you to be looking after him... “ 

 

“Well,” Frank mumbled, returning the greeting with a one-armed hug. “Not sure that’s what he’d say right about now.” 

 

She offered him a motherly pat on the shoulder. “Well just be patient with him. He did lose his mother after all, and it’ll take some time before he's ready for a relationship. “ 

 

If Frank had been sipping coffee at that precise moment it would have been all over her shirt. He barked out a queasy laugh of surprise as he flashed her an incredulous look.  “Relationship… who said--?”

 

She rattled right on over his protest.  “After all when Donny and I imprinted on each other it took us a good six months to get honest with our feelings.”

 

His reputation be damned, but Frank felt the heat rising to his face. He dipped his head like a bashful school-kid, flashing her a signature shit-eating grin. “That obvious, huh?” 

 

She nodded slyly. “Oh honey, everybody saw the way you two were at the wake. That kinda love only comes around once in a lifetime. Besides…” She added with a wink, tapping the side of one nostril, “We can smell that kind of thing, you know.”

 

“Yeah, yeah...” he grumbled beneath his breath. 

 

He pretended to scratch the back of his neck while she playfully elbowed his side. “Lucky for you, Daddy approves.” 

 

“Speaking of, is the Chief in?” 

 

She let out a small snort as she made her way to the other side of the desk. “You know it. I’ll buzz you in.” 

 

The inner (and only) office was inundated with the remnants of a life left behind. Jack was never the most organized person, but Frank couldn't recall a time when he'd seen the place in such a state of disarray. In amongst the heavy stacks of files and papers were a dozen or more plants still in their decorative urns.  Some had their makeshift spot on the floor, others the desk, and still more peaked out from behind drawn shades on the window still. Sympathy cards of every size and color were littered about the room, with a select special few--the ones in braille--displayed lovingly next to Jack’s trophies and commendations. Frank remembered those days.  The hardest part wasn't the funeral arrangements, the pall-bearing or even putting them in the ground. It came much later, in the silent, lonely moments when the realization finally began to hit---they weren't coming back. And somehow, some way, you had to make it without them. 

 

Jack was busy flicking spilled skittles off his keyboard as he typed something out, his reading glasses aimed low on his face, staring intently.  

 

“Reports, huh?,” Frank reasoned as he kicked a metal chair unto place.  He remembered those days, too. The absolute least favorite part about putting bullets in someone and kicking ass was the paperwork that followed naturally along with it.  He sat down hard, long legs sprawling out beneath him. 

 

Jack offered him a genuine smile, looking up only briefly to meet Frank's gaze. “Yeah, you know how it goes. My son with you?”

 

“Nah,” Frank muttered, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Took him back home.”

 

Jack sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he pushed away from the computer. “He's digging been around. I can't seem to find a way to stop it.”

 

Frank chewed on his answer for a bit, his eyes focusing in on a dark brown splatter stain on the eggshell stucco and the few shards of shattered porcelain beneath it. “He's lost,” Frank murmured finally. “Everybody is at this stage.”

 

Jack let out a haggard breath and clasped his hands together over the desk. “I know I should have talked to her sooner. She was so stubborn. Kept thinking.. “ he paused to wipe the corner of one eye,  letting out a bitter laugh. “She kept thinking I was having an affair.”

 

Frank raised his eyebrow. “Yeah but every night? I mean, Chief, nobody’s /that/ good.” 

 

Jack tried a weak smile. “I don’t blame her. I blame myself. I mean, the Elders told me what to expect when I married outside the clan. I’m damn lucky, too. They loved her instantly. Margaret was welcomed with open arms. I could have lost it all. The clan, the township, everything... “ 

 

“It would have been worth it,” Frank finished. 

 

Jack nodded slowly, meeting Frank’s stare. “Yeah.Ain’t that just the funny part though? A thousand times over, I’d do it again.” He let out another bitter chuckle. “How’s that for masochism?” 

 

“I could have stopped it, too,” Frank murmured, his gaze dropping down to the space between his knees. “If I hadnta’ left.”

 

“I don’t blame you.” Jack reached across the expanse of the desk, between two potted plants, to place a heavy hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Billy’s a wild card. I thought...well, we all thought...that with you leaving, the rest of your clan would have followed suit.” 

 

“Nah, not those guys.” Frank pushed up from the chair to perch himself on the vacant edge of the desk, staring out at the parking lot between the tattered shades. “I never really had a hold on them. I’m not the leader that you are, Jack. It was all I could do to get those assholes from consuming residents, let alone strangers. Billy preaches all about ‘clan progression’ and ‘pack preservation’ but he’s not strong enough to deny his urges.” 

 

“You did what you could,” Jack offered. “I just thank God that you didn’t leave Ypsie’ when you left him.” 

 

“What about the kid?,” Frank asked, his brain switching gears. “Matt’s never shown any sign of…?” 

 

Jack shrugged and shook his head. “Other than the fact that he’s practically a human homing pigeon and that he’s never gotten sick? ...Nothing.” 

 

“Hmmh.” Frank shot up from his spot as a lightbulb clicked on over his head. “What about just telling him? I mean, he is a half-breed. That makes him part of the pack. Your pack. It might be a way to reconnect with him. ” 

 

“You think I haven’t considered that?” Jack snorted, returning to his computer work. “And try to explain to him why the guy who killed his mother is running around scott-free without consequences? No, Frank.  Answering some questions would only make him ask more. ” 

 

Frank rooted around in the pocket of his hoodie, producing a small plastic bag he’d stowed there weeks earlier. He rolled it around thoughtfully in his fingers before placing it on the desk in front of him. 

 

Jack studied the contents skeptically. “What's this?” 

 

“It’s what I used when I drove Matt to New York. There's only one left,  but… it's all yours.”

 

Jack's eyebrows quirked upwards as he held the pill up to the light. 

 

“It's safe,” Frank murmured. “I tested a few out myself. It does something to stop the transformation process. Messes with our internal clocks, I guess. Makes our bodies think it's day when it's really night.  Claire developed ‘em.”

 

“And what would I use it for?”

 

Frank's expression softened as he studied the tired lines of Jack's face. “Stay home tonight, Chief. I’ll run the patrols with Luke and them. You… take care of your kid. Alright?”

 

Jack paused thoughtfully, then gave a sharp nod. “Thanks.”

 

“No worries,” Frank said as he turned to open the door. “The kid needs you.”

 

“Hey Frank?” Jack called over the dusty computer screen. 

 

Frank quirked an eyebrow back at the man.  

 

“You know,  I wasn't sure how much of our… /heritage/...Matt would end up having in his DNA.  But once he got older, I felt pretty damn sure he'd never have to spend his nights chasing deer and fending off rival pack members. I thought---probably stupidly ---that he'd have a chance at a normal life. I guess what I'm trying to say is… if he ever has to be a part of this, Frank. I'm… I'm glad you've got his back.”

 

Frank nodded slightly, the guilt over his inability to save Maggie needling it's way beneath his skin. He didn't deserve Jack’s respect,  let alone his trust. 

Frank wondered momentarily if Jack might change his mind. As he made his way back to the truck, thoughts of the red-head’s soft, exploratory kisses flooded in.  They were followed quickly by his look of pure betrayal burned into Frank's memory. He couldn't stop his feelings for the boy---its was more than emotion that was driving him out of his mind. It was something inexplicably deeper, a sense of duty,  of necessity, as if the construct of his fate was strictly dependant upon Matt’s. 

  
  


Frank shook his head with a frustrated groan, trying to rid himself of the weight of those feelings as the throaty engine roared to life and he punched the truck into drive. Desperation was washing over him like the ocean waves, and the tide was fast approaching.

 

* * * * * 

 

Matt wasn't the stay at home type. He'd inherited his wanderlust from his mother. It was nothing for her to shake him awake in an excited tizzy after packing both their bags and chime,  “Let’s see some waterfalls today!”

 

“Seeing” was something Matt never stopped doing.  Some people who'd known him all his life would clap their hands across each other's mouths and apologize profusely before changing their wording to something like “experience” or “feel”. But Matt could “see” better than most sighted people. It always made his heart leap in his chest when his Mom would say that. “Let's go see---!” She was the only one who understood what it truly meant to him. 

 

Matt found himself back in the library. Sure it was one of the oldest buildings in Northern Michigan and he'd been there hundreds of times through his life, but books were the gateway to other worlds. For once (and for whatever reason) he was actually browsing the small stack of fantasy books in Braiile,  each one specially provided by his mother, each one lovingly displayed for him to share with the two or three others in the County with poor or failing eyesight. That made them all the more special. This wasn't just some random collection in a Public Library's attempt to be “accessible”---it was her gift to Matt, to others with the disability.  What's better legacy for a writer to leave her child than that of books? Matt smiled fondly as he plucked a random book from the shelf, running his fingers across the raised surface. “Moby Dick.” An oldie but a goody he figured, and carried it to the section of worn leather couches known as the Readers Corner. 

 

He needed to clear his head, and perhaps the best way to do that was to transport himself to another place and time. He licked his lips as he flipped the first page, and laughed bitterly to himself as the taste of Frank’s kiss drew him back into the miserable present. 

 

Coming from around a towering stack of Returnables, the librarian peered over his shoulder.  “Back so soon?” Her voice sounded strained, and Matt wondered momentarily if he had interrupted her or surprised her with his presence.

 

He forced a smile, pushing it to the back of his conscience. “Yeah. I can’t seem to find what I’m looking for.” 

 

“Well, I don't mean to bother you, but before you get swept away by Herman Melville, I found a couple of articles from further back that I thought you might want to read.”

 

Matt's ears pricked up. He considered the promise he'd just made himself about letting it go for the night,  but the prospect of adding new pieces to the ever-changing puzzle of his Mother’s death won him over nearly instantly.  

 

“They're down in the basement,” she offered. “They were supposed to be part of the County records, but then they moved everything to digital and I guess these got lost in the transition. I don't know if they'd be any help, but if you'd like I could read them to you?” 

 

Matt smiled softly, placing Moby Dick face-down on the worn little coffee table and sliding to his feet. “Thanks, Mrs. Dillan. That’d be great.”

 

The set of narrow, wooden steps were cracked and warped with age, their surface worn down from nearly two centuries of use. The dank, musty smell assaulted his nose, growing thicker as they made their descent. Halfway down, Mrs. Dillan pulled a small chain suspended from the ceiling and Matt heard the familiar electronic “pop”of an old lamp flickering on.

 

The basement was four solid concrete walls surrounded by bookshelves and stacks of extras like folded chairs and tables. Mrs. Dillan shuffled through the maze, bumping into a box spilling over with cheap holiday decorations on her way to a single table in the very center.  On it sat an old flashlight and a small stack of papers. She laid a shaky hand on the top of the pile and cast an uncertain smile back at Matt. 

 

“Mrs. Dillan, is….is everything alright?” 

 

“Oh yes,” she piped, a little too quickly. “Just fine.” She beckoned to the empty chair across from the table and Matt hesitantly slid down into it, keeping his focus on her stiff stance and the way her heart kept skipping beats. 

 

It got better as she followed suit, cracking open the first paper and settling down to read aloud the article in question. It was an article from I86I, about the body of a local farmer who had been discovered on the side of the road. Though he appeared to have been untouched, his team of four horses weren’t so lucky. Still strapped to their wagon, thier half-eaten carcasses had been disemboweled. Matt felt a chill run through him. 

 

Mrs. Dillan was halfway through the second piece when the bell of the library door chimed. “Oh, I should...I should go see who that is.” 

 

Matt’s suspicions were blaring warning signals at him and he stiffly brushed it off. He was probably misconstruing things again, not something hard to do when one’s mind is flooded with thoughts of oversized wolves prowling the woods at night. He reminded himself that watching a scary movie had the same effect as he absentmindedly flipped through the old stack of papers. 

 

He heard Mrs.Dillan’s muffled voice as she greeted the visitor, asking if there was anything she could help him find. The reply was a curt “no”, in a voice that Matt thought he recognised. He grumbled again, reprimanding himself for his overactive imagination even as he tilted one ear towards the floorboards above. 

 

“Yes, he’s downstairs,” Mrs. Dillan murmured, her voice now thick with concern. “But you swear you’re not going to hurt him? He-he’s just a boy.”

 

Matt’s blood ran cold. 

 

“I told you,” the voice gently assured her, “I just need to talk to him. You did the right thing, Mindy. We’re just trying to make this all go away, right?” 

 

Matt sprang from his seat as silently as possible, making his way around the wall. The footsteps above were rounding the corner, approaching the door to the basement, and Matt sucked in his breath as the doorknob turned. There was literally nowhere to run and it wouldn’t do much good to hide. That was okay. Matt had trained in martial arts for a reason, and it was high time he put his skills to good use. He spotted a broom and plucked it from its place among the stowed garden tools, promptly breaking it over his knee with a resounding “CRACK”. 

 

The jiggling stopped. “...Matt?,” Billy’s voice called. “Matt, I just want to talk, alright?”

 

Matt kept his focus trained on the narrow door at the top of the steps, the broken stick poised over his head. He could hear Billy let out a sigh from the other end. 

 

“Matt, I know what happened today was...pretty jarring...but I need you to listen to me, alright?” 

 

“I can listen from down here,” Matt called up. What he’d intended as a threat came out a little too-high pitched. He clenched his teeth.

 

“Matt, I’m going to come down, okay?” 

 

Something wasn’t right about this man. There was something sinister about his smooth speech and his overbearing presence. Matt’s stomach did backflips as the door creaked open to reveal his long-legged form, hands raised out in front of him. 

 

“It’s okay,” he insisted too-softly. 

 

“G-get out of here,” Matt rasped, lost for sharper words. Billy strolled his way down, keeping one hand palm-out in front of himself as he slowly closed the distance between them. 

 

“Shhh, shhh. Matthew. Matthew. It’s alright.” He felt the taller man’s eyes boring holes into his head and raised the makeshift weapon higher, fighting back against the calming lull he felt building inside. He shook the sensation away, taking a step forward with a wide warning swing. 

 

Billy didn’t budge. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I scared you, alright? Mrs. Dillon sent me a text about your situation. She just wanted to see if I can help.”

 

Matt took a stab into the space around Billy’s arm, which he easily side-stepped. “NO!” Matt sprang backwards, maintaining a space around him. “NO MORE LIES!”

 

Billy paused as his calm facade faded and he began pulling off his gloves, finger by finger. “I can respect that,” he muttered with a slight nod, meticulously creasing them before sliding them into his long overcoat. He slid the coat off next, draping it on the end of the banister as Matt waited, heart pounding. 

 

He wasn’t expecting the speed at which Billy’s fist came towards him but was able to correct himself before contact. He felt the rush of wind as it flew past his ear, responding with a quick jab to his solar plexus. It connected, and Billy spun it further inwards, throwing Matt off-balance and sweeping a leg beneath Matt’s own. Matt’s descent was ended by the stick beneath his chin, dragging him up with his back against Billy’s chest, his taut biceps coiling around Matt like a vice. His feet left the floor, kicking with all his might to the sound of Mrs. Dillon screaming at them from the top of the stairs. 

 

“Billy, please! You said you wouldn’t--!”

 

Billy ignored her, grounding out a raspy chuckle against Matt’s ear. “Guess Frank really didn’t tell you about me did he, baby boy?” 

 

Matt’s lungs burned for air as his own weight flattened his trachea. As the room spun around him and his senses faded out, he used the last of his oxygen to aim a few kicks backwards into Billy’s groin. They were weak at best, but they made their point. Matt was going to go out fighting. 

 

* * * * * 

 

With his anger subsided for the most part, Frank made his way back to the cabin and was almost surprised to find that Billy was nowhere in sight. It was a good thing, too. He’d gotten too close to one of Billy’s would-be victims, something Frank vowed he’d never do. He couldn’t change the man, and without the entire backing of the clan he couldn’t force him, either. If Billy strolled through that door, Frank wasn’t sure there was anything that could stop him from shoving his fist straight through his goddamn gullet.

 

He turned the tap water on cold, giving his face and hands a quick scrub. He didn’t mind being alone. In fact, given everything that’d happened in the last few years it was one of the more constructive forms of his self-therapy. He’d wished to god things hadn’t turned out like they did for Matt, a kid who’d just started his adult life and hadn’t asked for his shitty excuse for a lot in life. Then Frank comes along and makes it even worse. What the fuck was he even thinking?

 

He could have pulled the kid out of the woods and let that be that. 

 

Muffled chatter outside and the shuffle footsteps approaching through the fallen leaves made him pick his head up and sent the sensation of raised hackles skittering down his back. He quickly patted his face dry and, true to his war-hardened ways, plucked his bat from its place on the wall. Through the makeshift peep-hole (courtesy of his .45) he peered through the door at the approaching group. 

 

“Fuck,” he murmured. Short of rolling his eyes, Frank pinched the bridge of his nose and bumped the door open. 

 

The Russo Clan had many members, four of which Billy considered his personal guards. Frank had stepped down and they stepped up, which suited the slick sonofabitch because Billy always did have visions of grandeur and loved nothing more than to give orders. He wasn’t much for getting his hands dirty. 

 

“Evening, ladies,” Frank rasped. The tallest of the bunch, a huge hairy behemoth that always smelled like a burning carcass, approached first, a toothy grin flashing beneath a bushy brown beard. 

 

“Hey Boss,” the tall one slurred. 

 

Frank swung the bat lasily behind him, enjoying the feel of the tattered canvas grip beneath his fingers. “Where’s your handler?” 

 

The goliath chuckled. “He’s got some business in town.” 

 

“Oh?” Frank slid his gaze to the sun peeking out over the trees. “Gee, he’d better hurry before he turns into a pumpkin. It’s only a few hours now.” The two littler ones--Caleb and Stan, twin brothers and perpetual pains in Frank’s ass--branched out around Frank’s truck, hovering on either side of his porch. 

 

“You know, boss,” the big one gruffed, his smile widening slightly, “It wasn’t very nice of you to interrupt our meal like that earlier.”

 

“Aw, c’mon boys.” Frank craned his head around as the fourth--a tattooed meathead who was wider than he was tall--edged closer to the front steps. “Now, I know you didn’t come here lookin for an apology. You really that sensitive?” Frank shook his head slowly, clicking his tongue. “Guess Billy’s just turned you all into pliable little pussies.” 

 

Meathead lunged forward with a growl, stopped only by Goliath’s meaty paw on his shoulder. 

 

“Alpha ain’t happy,” the behemoth said, an eerie chime to his voice. “Now you gotta fix it.” 

 

“Shit,” Frank sneered, letting out a dark chuckle. “You morons really are that stupid, ain’t you? I was your Alpha, dipshit. Practically raised you from a pup.” 

 

“You are weak.”The largest one gnashed his teeth at the last word, his inner lip curling upward to reveal the markings of his clan etched into the enamel. 

 

“Shakin’ in my boots, Princess.” 

 

Meathead charged the door first, bursting through with a guttural bark and shattering it to splinters. His hard body connected with Frank’s with a shot-gun sound and it earned him a bat to the teeth. Frank let out a war-cry, shoving it as far into his mouth as it would go and bringing an elbow up into his face. 

 

The big guy was next, and Frank climbed him like a tree, wrapping both arms around the guy’s head and slamming both knees into one shoulder, dislocating it with a loud POP. The behemoth howled in pain, stomping backwards and introducing Frank’s back to the wall. 

 

He shook it off, the familiar sensations of pain and trauma awakening the warrior inside that had laid dormant for far too long. His knuckles connected with the first Twin’s face, a foot flying up to catapult the second one backwards.

 

Frank was alive. The taste of fresh blood as it spattered into his mouth only urged him on. His fingers itched at the sensation, beckoning his talons forward. 

 

By the time two of them had him by the arms, pinning him to the wall, tables and chairs had been overturned, all the windows shattered, floorboards ripped up and Frank’s beloved coffee pot smashed. Even as Meatheat delivered blow after blow to his temples and he began to lose consciousness, he swore those assholes were going to pay for that, especially. 

 

* * * * *

 

The ground was damp and soft and surprisingly warm. Matt’s eyes fluttered open, beckoned by the soft crackle of a fire in the distance. It brought him back to the day he’d woken up chained to a stranger’s couch, wounds bandaged, skin scrubbed clean. Something more sinister echoed in the back of his mind, this time, churning his stomach as his fuzzy consciousness slowly gained focus. He moaned as he shifted, every bone in his body sore to the touch. 

 

He jolted upright as the memories flooded through and fear seized him once again. His arms were bound tightly behind has back, rope of the same thickness digging into his ankles. Without his limbs to aid him, he flopped gracelessly back onto his stomach. His chin hit the wet grass, and he coughed. 

 

“Good morning sunshine,” a sickening sing-song voice teased. Matt scowled. Billy sat on a hollow stump, his jacket spread out beneath him as he tapped away busily on his phone. He flashed a tight smile at Matt before stowing the device in his pocket. “Sorry, I was playing Minesweeper. I like to keep my mind sharp. You must have really needed that little nap.” 

 

Matt tried sitting up again, this time folding his legs in and angling his back against something cold and jagged. “Where--?” 

 

Billy brought a finger to his lips. “Hush, puppy. I know you are confused. But let’s wait for the others to catch up before getting the party started, okay?”        

 

Matt ignored him. “Where are we?” 

 

Billy let out a loud “Shh!” once more, his eyes flashing as he threw his chin to the space at Matt’s right. When Matt followed the motions, his senses picked up on another body, larger and longer than his, lying in a crescent-shape just a few yards away. 

 

Matt let out a surprised whimper. “Frank?” He instantly hated himself for how weak he sounded, how scared and  pathetic. He was already no match for the slick-looking older man, no need to give him a reason to rub it in. Still, his heart was in his throat as he took in Frank’s unconscious form, his steady heartbeat telling Matt that all was well. At least, for now. He knew it must have looked extra dumb when he scooched his way across the dirt to Franks side, nudging him gently and pressing his head to Frank’s chest. The calm “sweep-swoosh” sound of healthy lungs made Matt let out a sigh of relief. 

 

“Your boyfriend’s fine.” 

 

Matt felt a rush of embarrassment and anger, spitting back, “He’s not my boyfriend.” 

 

Billy raised an eyebrow. “Really? Coulda’ fooled me.”  He stood up from his place on the stump to stroll closer. The crackling fire was dying, its warmth fading as the sun hung low in the trees. Matt glanced around, scanning the place with his radar to determine that he didn’t remember ever being here before, wherever “here” was. “I don’t suppose he’s told you much about anything. That’s Frank’s way. Thinks he’s being heroic by keeping you in the dark. He thinks he can protect you better that way.” 

 

Matt pushed himself closer to Frank’s lifeless form, angling his head up towards Billy’s voice. “Protect me from what?” 

 

“That’s just the thing, kid. See, you and I are very much the same. Adventurers. The wandering type. We function best when there’s a problem to solve, when we are needed.” He sneered down at Frank as he continued, “If he had it his way, we’d both be barefoot in some kitchen somewhere cooking apple pies and waiting for his ass to come home when he fucking felt like it.”

 

“You’re delusional.” 

 

Billy shrugged, picking up a stick to absentmindedly poke the fire back to life. “Maybe. But I’m still trying to help you out, here. So it’d be in your best interest to hear what I have to say.” 

 

Matt pressed further into the spot between Frank’s neck and shoulder, breathing in his scent. Even tainted with fresh blood and bruises, it was comforting and somehow his mere presence seemed to calm Matt’s nerves. “So? Say it, then.” 

 

Billy held up a finger, that toothy smile returning. “I’ll do you one better.” He popped open the collar of his shirt and lifted it over his head, his dog tags jungling. “I’m going to show you. See, Frankie and I, we’re best friends. There hasn’t been almost anything that we haven’t shared.” 

 

Matt gnawed on his bottom lip, feeling the heavy blush on his face deepening to red. He watched with bewilderment as Billy continued undressing: he pulled off one boot, then the other, discarding them into a pile next to his overcoat before starting on his belt buckle. 

 

Matt felt his stomach suddenly cartwheel. He dug the heels of his tennis shoes into the dirt, pushing his back as flat as possible to the ragged rock wall. “Wh...what are you doing?” 

 

Billy took a solid step forward, his bare feet landing silently in front of Matt. 

 

“I’m….” Matt flushed, chewing down hard enough on his lip to draw blood. “N-no offense...you’re not my type.” 

 

Billy’s eyebrows shot up and he paused for the briefest moment, his eyes as wide as Matt was sure his own were. Billy threw his head back and let out a genuine laugh. “Oh! Don’t flatter yourself, runt. You’re not my type either.”

 

Matt felt the slightest wave of relief wash over him before concern set back in. Drawing a protective arm around Frank, he muttered. “Then….then what are you going to show me?” 

 

“Boss,” A towering man with a burly beard suddenly rounded the corner, bringing with him a cluster of strangers that Matt could not make out. He stopped a few feet from Billy and Matt’s sonar picked up the shape of a cloth-wrapped bat lazily swaying at the man’s side.  “It’s almost time.” 

 

“Right,” Billy murmured thoughtfully. He gestured to the huddled pair in the shadow of the towering wall of rocks. “Wake him up then. Let’s get this show on the road.” 

 

“N-no!!!” Matt flailed against the hands that roughly picked him up, dragging him arm’s distance away and dumping him back to the earth. Billy smothered the fire, and all the warmth went out. “Don’t touch him!”

 

“Oh my god,” Billy muttered, barely masking a snicker beneath his breath. “That is fucking precious.” 

 

“Shut up, kid,” the biggest man gruffed. “Ain’t nobody out here to hear you anyway. You’re screaming just to hear yer own voice...kinda’ like your Momma.” 

 

Ice froze Matt’s veins as the words registered, all the air going out of his lungs in an instant. “Wh--what did you say?” 

 

“Trag,” Billy hissed. The big man straightened up and nodded apologetically before returning to the task at hand. He strutted towards Frank’s lifeless form, giving him a solid jab with the end of the bat. 

 

“Don’t fucking TOUCH HIM!,” Matt screamed, thrashing his head to glare up at Billy. “What did he mean? My MOTHER? You--you know about my mother??!” 

 

“Jesus, kid, put a sock in it,” the muscle-bound one grunted. 

 

Billy let out a “humpf” in agreement, and produced a scrap of cloth from his discarded boot. He tossed it at the man, flashing him a grin. “Good idea.” 

 

Matt wriggled away, landing one solid kick in with both feet strung together. The brute crawled atop him. He was grateful for the relative cleanliness of the sock as his jaw was wrenched open and the wadded material was shoved ruthlessly inside. It tasted faintly of salt and fabric softener, and instantly sucked all the moisture from Matt’s mouth. He gave the guy another kick to the stomach for good measure, even if it did nothing, and he slid off him with a chuckle. “Now don’t you try spitting that out, puppy, or I’ll replace it with somethin’ you /really/ won’t like.” 

 

Matt let out a muffled version of “fuck you” as loud as he could before casting his attentions back to Frank. The towering man had hauled him up with one-hand, and it seemed his efforts to shake him awake were slowly succeeding. Frank moaned drowsily and the behemoth jammed the bulbous end of the bat into his chin, lifting it. “Wakey wakey, Captain.” 

 

Frank snorted inward sharply, twisting his body and bringing his chained fists up into the guy’s forehead. He released him with a roar and Frank tumbled to the ground, the sound of the metal links hitting hard against his solid muscle. He groaned, rolling over onto his side and peering upwards at Billy. 

 

Somewhere in all that was happening, Billy had discarded the rest of his clothes and was now standing in front of the smouldering ash heap, completely nude. Even without his sight, Matt’s sonar picked up on every contour of his body--he recalled seeing a picture of the statue of David when he was little, and likened it to the feedback his brain was now giving him. Matt felt a wave of inferiority wash over him as his attentions switched from Frank to Billy, back to Frank again. Billy was perfect--flawless, fast and powerful; none of the things Matt was. Matt felt like a fool; how could he have thought for a second that he could compete with /that/? 

 

“Nnnng---” Frank let out a pained groan and glared up at Billy. “The fuck you want now?” 

 

“It’s not about what I want,” Billy murmured. “You need to fix this Frank. The right way.” Billy nodded behind Frank, to the cowering boy in the corner. “For his sake.” 

 

Frank blinked slowly before struggling against the chains to turn around. The instant their eyes met, Matt heard Frank’s heart cease. “...Red?” He wheeled back towards Billy, the chains around his wrists screeching together as he pulled against them. “The fuck, Billy? What is he doing here?” 

 

“Showing him the truth! Answering the questions that you are too gutless to tell him!” 

 

“That ain’t true and you know it!,” Frank shot back. His powerful legs beat against each other, the bindings letting out a horrid metallic scream as he bashed against them. “I’m tryin’ to protect us! Protect all of us! God knows I’ve had to cover up enough of your shit to last me a lifetime. Leave the kid out of it, Bill, or so fucking help me I’m gonna---” 

 

“It’s too late,” one of the others murmured as the last slice of sunlight disappeared beneath the horizon. 

 

“Time to man up.” Billy grabbed a key from his coat pocket, crossing the distance between them

To jam it into the lock connecting Frank’s wrists. As he broke free, Frank grabbed Billy around the throat with a animalistic growl, pushing the skinnier man to the ground. “Mnnng…..! Stop fighting it!” 

 

Matt flattened himself to the rocks behind him. He worked furiously at the ropes around his wrists, ignoring the burn as they bit into his flesh. He moved his tongue against the scrap of cloth, coughing a little to try and dislodge it from his jaws. 

 

Frank seemed willing to let Billy finish unlocking him, letting out a disgusted grunt as he, too, began disrobing. He took off his tank top, wadding it up with his dog tags and throwing it to the ground as he began yanking his boots off. “I don’t know what you think is gonna happen here,” he snarled, “But you aren’t going to touch him, you hear me?” 

 

“Stand up,” Billy grunted back. “You look like an idiot.” 

 

Frank hobbled to his feet, fists clenched as they stared each other down. It was as if the wind had suddenly changed directions--the sounds of willdlife in the seemingly endless woods died into silence, and for a single moment it was like time itself stood still. 

 

Then Matt heard it--the unmistakable sound of snapping bone and tearing sinew as the bodies before him began to warp and bend. He let out a scream around the sock still buried deep in his mouth, seemingly echoed by the distorted gurgle coming from Frank--or at least what he thought was Frank? The sounds were changing too, causing Matt’s sonar to go haywire. He couldn’t make sense of it--the six men surrounding the little alcove were dying--no, changing? 

 

Pained groans were soon replaced by muffled snarls. Paws reverberated on the bare ground as the creatures bent forward, then crouched, then stood on all fours. The heartbeats were bigger and louder, their deep lungs sweeping air in and out of the endless chambers. 

 

Matt stilled, bracing himself against the wall as his senses re-focused. Six creatures stood towering over his balled-up form, creatures Matt knew. Especially the one standing closest to him. Shaking harder than a falling leaf, Matt forced his eyes open. A fear seized him, fear that he hadn’t known since the night of the accident. He let out a pleading whimper, angling his face towards the most familiar one. 

 

The beat let out a soft snort as he padded closer. The familiar tendrils of long, dark fur spiked out over his back swaying in the mild breeze. “Mrrph.” He pushed his massive head towards Matt, and Matt froze, but only for a moment. The familiar scent and the steady thrum of his huge heart beating drew him in, familiarity surrounding each movement. 

 

Matt fought back the tears of disbelief, shaking his head slowly even as he leaned into the creature, pressing his face into his long snout, shivering slightly at the sensation of the cold, wet nose against his cheek. 

 

“Mmmrph.” 

 

Matt gazed into those eyes, something in his radar telling him they were bright and glowing. He frowned slightly, unable to calculate what he’d just witnessed, but knowing in his heart just what it meant. A wide, wet tongue flicked out over Matt’s mouth and he forced himself to remain still, even as his lip scraped against a set of massive spike-like teeth. The creature promptly tugged the damp sock out of his mouth, and Matt let in a grateful gulp of fresh air. 

 

The eyes that stared back were sad and kind as he gently nuzzled into Matt’s neck. Matt pulled away slightly, searching the wolf’s face and shaking his head disbelieving his own logic. With a dry, parched mouth he rasped the question that had been on his lips longer than he’d wanted to admit. “...Frank?” 

 

The creature nodded.

 

Behind him, a sleek dark wolf lurked. Rounding the dead fire-circle, Matt could have sworn he was grinning. He opened his massive jaws, and a gravelly voice that sounded eerily familiar, said “Welcome to Pack, kid.” 

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt is forced to come to terms with the big secret his town, his family, and Frank have been hiding from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience. This is a long chapter but I hope it will be worth it! (AND FINALLY, SMUT! FULL STEAM AHEAD!)

_ “I can feel the calling again _

_ The primal need is filling me _

_ Changes are about to begin _

_ And now my blood is boiling _

_ I can see the fear in your eyes _

_ But you can’t bring yourself to scream _

_ Time to shed the mortal disguise _

_ The beast is coming to life” ---Disturbed, “The Animal”  _

  
  


* * * * * 

  
  


10 Months earlier….

 

Billy should have known Frank was serious. After all, the man never kidded about anything, why the fuck would he do it about leaving him? Eight years down the drain, gone in a day over some stupid kid and his Mom. 

 

Billy barred the way, slamming into the door as Frank reached for the handle. His lover shot death from his eyes, black and glistening with the slightest tinge of red. Two rings of yellow burned brightly beneath as a growl rumbled deep within his chest. “Don’t.” 

 

“That’s what I’m asking you,” Billy murmured, slumping against the door and dropping his guard, knowing it would do him no good now. Frank wanted him broken, bleeding? Fine. He could play it either way. He ran a beckoning finger down Frank’s chest, turning it into a full press of his palm as Frank let out a weary moan. “You’re not going to stop me, you know. It wouldn’t matter either way. You know as well as I do what’s got to be done. It’s for the pack, Frank! For all of us.” 

 

Frank shouldered his way past the lanky brunet, shoving him into the wall as he jerked the door open. “Do what you gotta do. And keep me out of it.” 

 

* * * * *

 

Watching the helpless redhead recoil at his touch was like taking a dagger through the heart. Frank was always the strong one--he could keep emotion from rearing its ugly head all those years watching his lover tear into anonymous victims. But he couldn’t manage to pry himself from the guilt now squeezing the air from his lungs. Everything he once was was quickly drowning into a puddle at his feet. Just one look of betrayal from the boy, and he melted. 

 

“Mrph,” he tried again, burrowing his cold wet nose into Matt’s chin. He was hesitant to use his voice just yet, worrying that it would freak the kid out even more. He felt Matt stiffen a little, but even this was not the same as out-and-out pulling away. Frank took it as a good sign, quickly craning his head behind Matt’s back to gnaw off the ropes. His teeth and tongue gently scraped against silky human flesh and for a moment Frank shivered. It was a taste he hadn’t acquired in such a long time, and somewhere deep within him, a hunger grew. He shook it off, hooking one long fang into the coiled rope and snapping it like a thread.

 

Matt rubbed his wrists, his eyes darting from Frank to the clan and back again. “Th...thanks, I guess,” he murmured. Frank repeated the same thing with his ankles until he’d chewed off all the binds; he wasn’t sure what Matt would do. Maybe the kid would make a break for it, like he had in the woods that night. If that was going to be the case, Frank couldn’t blame him. The kid had a right to, and as far as he was concerned it would change nothing between them. Frank was with him all the way; he wouldn’t let any harm come to him. 

 

Matt let out a stiff groan, slowly rising to his feet. He surveyed the small gathering, rubbing the red marks on his wrists. “S-so….you’re all?”

 

Billy stepped a bit closer, his sleek black head hovering in front of Matt’s face. “We sure are,” he confirmed. “But something tells me you already knew that, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question. 

 

Frank saw the familiar look of hopelessness and disgust when Matt stumbled backwards suddenly, bracing himself against the rock wall. “Wait...then--then you know about my Mother….you…”

 

“Matt--”, Frank started. 

 

“---you can talk?!” Matt whirled around at the sound of Franks voice, guttural and slightly muffled by the transformation. A small stick being hurled at his snout stopped any answer he might have been able to muster, followed up by another slightly larger one. “YOU COULD TALK? ALL THIS TIME?” 

 

The evidence of his treachery stacked against him, it was all Frank could do to dodge the random bits of ground debris and softly plead with him to stop. Matt was visibly shaken and beyond words, ignoring Frank to scoop up a fist-sized rock. Frank flattened his ears, and winced, waiting for impact as the kid froze in place. 

 

Billy snickered softly at the kid who stared down at his makeshift weapon. “Go on,” he goaded. “It’s what he deserves.”

 

Matt let the stone slip silently from his bruised fingers and it fell to the ground with a sullen thud. Tears sprang to his eyes as his dissolve crumbled, and Frank raced to his side. “I know, Red. I know. God, I’m so sorry.”

 

“No he ain’t,” Billy chided, strutting around the two siblings and swishing his elegant black tail. “He would have kept this from you forever, Matt, as long as it served his purpose.”

 

“Shut up!” Matt cried.

 

“Ignore him,” Frank murmured cooly, flattening his forehead to Matt’s shoulder with a light nudge.

 

“Which one of you was it?” Matt broke away from Frank’s soothing embrace, strutting towards Billy with a determined scowl. He balled his fist into the thick fur of Billy’s cowl, tugging so hard he actually strained forward. Billy’s eyes lit up like two silver sparklers, and Frank would be lying if he said it didn’t make him smile just a bit with pride for the kid. “Which one of you killed my Mom?”

 

Billy shoved back with a furious snarl, pink flesh curling up over his canines as Matt tumbled to the ground. “MIND YOUR PUP, Castle! Or I’ll show him just who he’s dealing with.”

 

Immediately, Frank was in Billy’s path, shielding Matt with his towering form and gnashing his set of razor-sharp teeth Billy’s way. “You’re not going to touch him. You hear me? Now you started this, Billy. Be Wolf enough to finish it.” 

 

Billy studied Frank’s steel gaze, pausing a moment before sitting on his haunches and lifting a paw to clean it. “It had to be done, kid. Trust me, I took no pleasure in it.”

 

The big, stinking beast behind him cackled gleefully and it was all Frank could do not to rip his throat out then and there. 

 

“Your old man knew the risks of mating outside the Pack. When it came to your Momma, though,” Billy paused, separating the pads of his massive claws to lick in between. “Nothing could stop him. Believe me, Frank and I, we both tried convincing him. Called a special meeting of the elders and everything. Turns out, she had a little half-breed bun in the oven before they could even bring it to a vote.”

 

Matt’s eyelashes fluttered hard as he pushed to his feet once more. Frank stepped towards him, but Matt shrank away with a shake of his head. “What….what does he mean, my Dad, Frank? Are there more…? What….what’s….?” 

 

The sound of thundering footsteps approaching from atop the hill took everyone’s attention. Frank heard Matt unsuccessfully muffle a whimper as the form of a towering beast came to stand at the pinnacle of the rock wall, choking the soft moonlight behind it. He let out a deep snort that reverberated down the cavern wall and made the fallen leaves shiver in place. A small, scrappy little wolf with fizzled blonde fur was second, trotting up beside the monstrous creature to look down on the scene below. 

 

Luke was bigger than Frank---not that that bothered him, because it totally didn’t--and bigger than any other wolf Frank had ever met. Why it was Jack and not Luke that was alpha of their clan was far beyond Frank’s understanding. He had guessed it had something to do with Luke’s demeanor--calm and quiet like the sea before the storm and a presence that wasn’t so much demanding as it was imposing. Much like a shield in battle, Luke used his size to indimitate rivals into backing down. He was a guy who’d choose a truce over fighting anyday, and like Frank, he preferred solace. 

 

Danny was next-to hysterical looking standing beside the gray behemoth, his spindly legs more suited for a fox than a full-fledged wolf. And ---Frank scowled at this--his frizzy coat always looked so unkempt, like the little bastard had mange. 

 

“Russo, you’ve been warned before,” Luke began, sounding more inconvenienced than anything else. “No killing on the border.” 

 

“Hello, Officer Cage,” Billy mocked. “We’re not on your border. Not yet anyway.” 

 

Frank snorted. He wouldn’t be stupid enough. Clan code dictated that the second Billy or one of his wolves so much as stepped  _ paw _ onto Murdock’s territory, he could be ripped to shreds and nobody could--or would, in Billy’s case--say shit about it..  

 

Danny nudged his colossus of a mate with his dainty black nose. “Hey--look, Luke, is that--?” 

 

“Matt?,” Luke asked, stunned. 

 

Danny trotted down, much to Luke’s chagrin, his tail gently wagging as he circled the confused human. “What are you doing, bud?! We’ve been looking all over for you! You weren’t at the house when your Dad left for the night...he’s worried sick!”

 

Matt staggered backwards into Frank, cocking his head towards the smaller canine like he’d grown a second head. “...Danny?” 

 

“Yup,” the scraggly wolf nodded. 

 

The echo of low growls encircled them. Billy’s guys weren’t too keen on the Murdock clan, and Danny was treading dangerously close to the border line. Luke pounced, crossing the wall of stones and landing like the mac truck he was in a single leap. He shook the fur loose from his dense ruff and strode over to Danny, throwing a warning glance at Billy’s gang. They were smart to keep their distance--the tension was so thick in the midnight fog that you could cut it with a knife. 

 

“I’m dreaming,” Matthew muttered suddenly, clutching his head in both hands, cinnamon hair falling all around his face. “This is a dream. This is all a dream, and none of you are real.” 

 

Frank let out a bitter huff, bumping Matt’s elbow with his muzzle. “Trust me, kid. I felt that same way when I first turned.” 

 

“But, what about me then? Why haven’t I…. I mean, why don’t I look like you?” 

 

“Beats me,” Danny said with a shrug. 

 

“Are you deaf as well as blind, kid?,” Billy sneered. “You’re a half-blood. A fleshie. God knows if you did turn, you’d probably look like a cocker-spaniel.” As his clan erupted into laughter, Billy slammed a paw down on the ground so hard the trees shook, promptly ending their outburst. “That being said, we don’t know.” 

 

“There hasn’t been anyone like you before,” Luke followed up. “It’s frowned upon to mate outside our “kind.” Those that do are pretty much sterile, anyway. Wolf and human DNA doesn’t mix. But then you came along. None of us knew what to expect. Including your dad. We were all just relieved you seemed like a normal, healthy boy.”

 

Danny pawed absentmindedly at the ground as he picked up where Luke left off. (Frank was always intrigued by how synched these two were; he wondered if it was just part of knowing each other almost half their lives or if it was due to the Imprinting) . “When the...accident happened...that’s when we knew. There was no way you could have survived that without sharing our regenerative abilities.” (Frank made a mental note to ask Matt the details of what had caused his blindndess someday, maybe after all this had blown over).

 

“My sight…?” Matt’s voice was strained and weary as he hugged himself and shivered. Frank hadn't even realize when it had begun to sprinkle. His top three layers of fur were dense and waterproof, the silky under coating protecting from rain,  snow, even subzero wind. The kid must have been catching his death out here. 

 

Luke shrugged a little. Even in their animal forms, they retained a lot of the same mannerisms they used as humans and used both accordingly.  In this case, Frank considered, the more “human”-like they could appear the better. “I don’t know. The chemicals that got into your eyes came from the lab up the road, and they've been doing all sorts of research regarding wolf-kind for decades now.”

 

Matt’s nose wrinkled.  “Research? What kind…?”

 

“I think we should take this inside”, Frank muttered, nodding his head in the direction of the cliff. Carved into the rock wall, hidden behind a towering stone pillar, was another alcove. Frank tugged carefully on Matt’s sleeve with his teeth, pulling him towards the mouth of it.  

 

Matt hesitated slightly--probably startled by the feel of his  incisors--before allowing Frank to lead the way. 

Even in this moment, with everything up in the air and a turf war dangerously looming, they were together, and something felt so inexplicably right about that. Frank wondered if Matt felt it too---and suddenly the thought of even the possibility that Matt might not reciprocate this vow-like devotion devastated him to no end. Regardless of how ridiculous it sounded in his head, those thoughts squeezed his insides like a vice, without mercy or remorse. 

 

He was with him. That's all that mattered.  And he'd protect him with every fiber of his being. Matt was everything. 

 

They were followed into the circle, gingerly at first, by Danny as Luke came close behind, his massive body blocking them from Billy and his clan.  

 

“Hold out your hand,” Frank murmured, gently nudging Matt. “Feel the wall.” 

 

He did as he was told, stretching his arm out to run his fingers along the frozen granite. He gasped a little as they walked, fingers thrumming over the carvings in the wall.  Scrolling runes, depictions of warriors long dead, words that most folks no longer knew--all splayed out in intricate patterns on the cave’s interior. “Woah…” Matt broke the first smile Frank had seen in ages, flattening a second hand to run along the wall.  

 

“This is the Hall of the Ancients,” Frank explained.  “Hallowed ground for all wolf-kind.”

 

“Meaning it's an automatic truce,” Luke growled, sliding a watchful glare over to the gargantuan creature that seemed to be staring a little too intently at Matt. “No killing. “

 

“Hmph.” Billy strode past, purposefully flicking his tail beneath Luke’s chin. “We all know that, genius.”

 

“Hey watch yourself!” Watching Danny try to go toe-to-toe with the Alpha of the Russo Clan was a lot like watching a fly pick a fight with a bug zapper. He sandwiched his way between them, with Luke giving him a valiant grin for the effort. “Luke doesn't want to have to bathe himself of your disgusting smell later!”

 

Luke chuckled, pushing Danny aside with a sweep of his head.  “We'd better get the Chief before we go much further.”

 

Billy gave him a shifty look,  suddenly a lot more subdued than he had been at the start of this whole thing. “Well he's your problem now,” he grumbled. “I only did what your “Chief” wasn't /wolf/ enough to do!” 

 

“Exactly,” Luke injected with a sly grin, coiling a paw around Billy's ruff. Billy was helpless to squirm out from beneath his massive weight. He shot Luke a startled look as he did his claws into the ground,  spinning his proverbial tires. “Stay,” Luke insisted with a hiss. “We insist. The Chief can't express his gratitude if you run away.”

 

“Yeah,” Billy piped up giddily,  “We insist!”

 

Trag was Billy’s strong-arm, his war-dog. The one that protected him at all costs and got his paws dirty when Billy didn't feel like it.  He was the stinkiest, most unkempt son of a bitch Frank had ever known. And nearly as big as Luke and almost as strong. He took a threatening step towards the huge gray wolf, but a corrective bark from Billy made him freeze.  

 

“It's fine, “ he snapped. 

 

Matt looked as if he wanted to ask more. Frank could only imagine all the questions flooding the kid’s brain as Luke and Danny shared a look and simultaneously raised their noses to the sky. Luke began first, firing up a long,  melancholy moan from somewhere deep within and Danny’s higher pitched yelps followed suit. The mournful song reverberated off the high cavern walls as Matt tilted his head to listen. 

 

The hackles on Frank's spine went rigid as the urge to join in won out over his stoicism. His voice was louder,  more resonant than the others. The Alpha’s voice was commanding by design, and clan or no clan Frank’s was sure to catch the ear of the Chief. 

 

As the refrain died, the air around them stilled. Moments ticked by in expectant silence and Frank felt the familiar ruffle of Matt’s fingers soothingly course through his fur.  At last, the kid trusted him. Frank thought--perhaps selfishly --that he had earned at least that much. 

 

Approaching footsteps made the small gathering stop and stare at the mouth of the cave. With bright Moonlight pouring in and the last of the rain pattering on the ground, the shadow of a graying wolf appeared. Jack was well into his fifties now, and for all the supernatural powers bestowed on their kind, nothing could combat the signs of grief. He looked as haggard in his wolf form as he had in skin, two tired eyes peering in at them from the entrance. 

 

“Chief,” Luke began, taking a step in Billy’s direction. It was too late. Jack had already zeroed in on his crouched form and flew towards him with a furious howl. Billy hit the ground with a force that rattled the walls and let out a startled yelp, trying his best to claw out from under the larger wolf. 

 

“What is this treacherous piece of shit doing here!?” 

 

Frank joined in with Billy’s bodyguard on helping Luke wrestle him away from Jack’s jaws. Trag let out an indignant snort, shoving the old alpha to the opposite side of the room while Billy indignantly shook his fur back into place. “Back off, old man,” Trag ground out. 

 

But Jack’s attentions had fallen to the cowering redhead at Frank’s side. Matt clung to Frank, both arms going around his massive neck in a death grip, his face buried in Frank’s thick cowl. He shot a quizzical look at Frank as his anger subsided, the hackles on his back smoothing down, the fire in his eyes replaced with worry. “...Matt?” 

 

Frank sighed, placing one paw around Matt in a half-hug and answered, “It’s been a long day, Chief.” 

 

No one was going to stop Billy from telling his side of things. His reasoning for revealing the pack to Matt was a mystery, even to Frank, who knew him better than anyone. He claimed that it was to stop Matt from asking around town any more. The best Frank figured, tribal law dictated that he couldn’t kill Matt because Matt was part-wolf and therefore technically part of them. But for the long-standing members of the town, most of whom were wolves themselves, it was important to keep things hush. Frank hated that Billy was right. In a way, all their lives were at stake. As Jack revealed himself to his son and began what was no doubt going to be a very long explanation, Matt sank further and further into Frank. 

 

He’d earned this part. He felt poorly for Jack, that his son would have to learn the hard way what he truly was--what they all were--but he’d built a rapport with the kid. If Matt couldn’t trust Frank The Human, perhaps he could at least trust Frank The Wolf. He wondered then how things would change between them. It was going to be a long road, no doubt. There was still the matter of Billy being a murderous piece of scum, but hopefully with time Matt would learn to accept, whether right or wrong, that Billy acted within his jurisdiction. 

 

The evening ended in an uneasy truce, with Billy and his clan heading out first, disappearing back into the woods as the first light of morning shone through the fog. If Billy looked back towards Frank, Frank didn’t want to see. That part of his life was over and done with. Billy’d have to accept that. He gently nudged Matt towards his father before turning down the path to the cabin, not waiting to see the look on Matt’s face. He couldn’t worry about that right now. The kid was going to need his space. And his Dad still had a lot of making up to do. Frank made his way back in silence as the first rays of sunlight warmed the long stalks of fur on his back. 

 

* * * * *

 

Frank returned every night to sit with his back to the gate. Matt would come talk to him when he was ready, but Frank didn’t dare hope. Even if Matt never wanted to see him again, Frank vowed, he would live a life free from fear, with the total protection of the Russo Clan’s ex-Alpha. Every now and then, Luke and Danny would happen by. They’d exchange dutiful nods with Frank before trotting off into the woods. 

 

The snow started to fall a few weeks later, piling higher on his dense fur each night. Frank didn’t talk to many of the residents, but from what he could gather Matt had apparently stopped his relentless quest for answers--Billy’s plan had worked, for now at least. 

 

Speaking of, Billy hadn’t happened by at all either. It seemed he was happy to let Frank be, as long as Matt wasn’t in-tow. For Frank it was a welcome reprieve. Whatever Billy was up to, it didn’t involve Matt, and that was good enough for Frank. More than good enough, it was everything. Matt was everything. 

 

He successfully ignored the need to see him for three straight months. Just knowing he was safe and unharmed was enough (except when it wasn’t, which was  _ always _ !) Every thought that flew through Frank’s mind, everything he did, everywhere he went---he was haunted by the memory of a moody redhead. Frank made a promise to himself that day 90----because 90 was more than enough---Frank would hop into his truck and speed over to Murdock’s place. Whatever he needed to say he’d say, whatever needed to be done, Frank would do it. On day 89, Frank grabbed his keys and headed out the door, murmuring, “Aw, fuck it.”

 

* * * * *

 

He rapped on the rickety porch door and stood back, nervously switching his hat from hand-to-hand. During the ride over, Frank’s heart had slowly worked its way from his chest to the back of his throat, and he had to clear it when Jack stepped out. He looked somewhat confused, eyeing Frank up and down before dipping his chin. “Frank.” 

 

“Morning Chief.” 

 

A silent pause passed between them before Jack murmured, “What’re you doing here?”

 

“I, uh--” Frank let out a nervous cough--”I was wondering if Matt was in? That is, if he’ll see me…”

 

A look of surprise crossed the Chief’s face. “Frank, Matt’s not here.” 

 

The words hit like an anvil. “He...he’s not?” 

 

Jack shook his head. “He went back to school a few months ago. Decided...given the circumstances you know...he needed some time to work things out and be with his friends and all that. I … thought he told you?”

 

Frank tried to ignore the sting of betrayal that needled its way in. “No. He...we haven’t seen each other since…since, the uh…” 

 

Jack let out an understanding sigh and patted Frank’s shoulder with a firm hand. “It’s okay, son. It’s been a rough road for all of us.” He added reassuringly, “I drove him myself. Thanks to that pill you let me borrow. Man did that come in handy. Haven’t had a good night sleep in ages. Plus, it gave Matt and me ample time to catch up. He’s doing okay out there, Frank. Really. I’m sure someday he’ll be back here and who knows…” 

 

“Yeah,” Frank murmured. He forced a smile and a “thank you” as he hopped backwards off the porch. He put his hat back on as he cranked open the rusty truck door, jamming it as far down over his eyes as it would go.

 

“Sure thing,” Jack murmured, watching him speed off down the road. 

 

* * * * *

 

_ A few weeks later, New York _

 

Foggy had made it his life’s mission to see Matt smile. He’d been mopey and depressed ever since he’d gotten back and while Foggy couldn’t blame him for it, he longed to have his best friend back. Matt needed to be pushed, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Foggy’s Mom had battled depression her whole life, so in a way he felt more than adequately equipped to be Matt’s cheerleader, no matter how many pillows got tossed his way. 

 

“Ermph,” Matt grumbled, rolling over onto his stomach beneath a copious amount of bedding. He jammed a pillow over both ears as Foggy jostled his shoulder.

 

“Come on, Matty!,” Foggy insisted. The hated nickname usually did the trick to incite Matt into putting on his active pants and tennis shoes. “You promised me you’d go running.” 

 

“I said I’d promise to /try/,” Matt corrected.

 

“Well try harder!” Consequences be damned, Foggy sent his palm down hard on the comforter over Matts ass, producing a muffled cry of protest from under the pillow. 

 

“Go away!”

 

“Nah-uh.”

 

“Leave me alone!”

 

“Nnnnnope.”

 

“FOGGGYYYYYY….!” 

 

If Matt really wanted to,  he’d have sent Foggy into the next wall.  But that'd mean fighting, and Matt was all out of it. He’d even stopped going to his kickboxing classes, spending most of his days holed up in their little dorm sleeping and studying .  A grumpy, tousled head made its appearance out from under the pile of blankets to glare at Foggy. 

 

“Good morning!”

 

“I hate you,” Matt growled/grinned, hurling a particularly heavy feather pillow straight at Foggy’s ass. 

 

Before Foggy could successfully yank Matt out of bed, a knock on the door ended their tussle, with Matt scrambling back under the warmth with a dramatic sigh. 

 

“Nobody's home!” Foggy called, getting a death-grip on Matts ankle and pulling. Matt kicked him off, hiding a  snicker at his BFF's relentless attack. 

 

With a determined growl, Foggy left atop the lump, grappling for control and holding on for dear life as it tried to buck him off. “Get the damn door will you?” Matt’s plea was stuck somewhere between amusement and irritation. 

 

The door clicked open, a voice that was familiar to both of them greeting them from the other side. “Am I interrupting something?” 

 

Matt froze, and Foggy snapped to attention. As he recognized the stranger, a deep frown furrowed his brows and he tightened his grip protectively around Matt. “YOU again?!”

 

Frank smiled gently, gingerly stepping past the doorway as Matt wrangled his way out from the covers. His eyelashes fluttered as he tried desperately to smooth his flyaway bangs, a gentle glow coming to rest on his cheeks. 

 

Foggy rolled his eyes before giving the much taller man a firm shove backwards. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing here but Matt doesn’t need you!” 

 

Frank’s eyebrows raised simultaneously. “I see he told you about me.”

 

“Foggy,” Matt chided under his breath. He staggered upright, tugging on the bottom of his pajama shirt. Foggy could plainly see that Matt was suddenly painfully aware of his disheveled appearance. Whoever this “Frank” guy was, he made Matt act all funny and Foggy hated it. He also hated the fact that whatever had happened between the two left Matt in this zombie-like state. Of one thing Foggy was certain: this Frank guy was bad news.  Taking advantage of a guy who'd just lost his Mom was not cool at all!

 

Much to Foggy’s chagrin, Matt angled past him, coming face to face with the person who completely shattered his heart and even offering him a small smile. A smile!!! Foggy was incredulous!!!

 

“What… What are you doing here?” Matt murmured.  

 

“I uh… your Dad said you'd gone back.  So…” Frank a voice trailed off as he stared absentmindedly down at him.  

 

“Well,  he's busy,” Foggy interjected, shoving Frank in the shoulder and back the way he came. “And he doesn't need your---holy fuck! Where do you work out? Your arms are like ham-hocks!!--anyway we were just getting ready to study, and--” 

 

“How long are you going to be in town?,” Matt asked expectantly. 

 

Frank paused. “I could tell you everything… over dinner tonight? My place?” 

 

Matt’s eyelashes fluttered. “Your place?”

 

“It’d have to be early of course,” Frank added. The two shared a secretive smile that was about enough to make Foggy explode. 

 

“Early,” Matt mimicked, his grin widening. “Yeah. Of course. Four?”

 

Frank nodded. “Four. I'll pick you up then.”

 

“Kay,” Matt said dreamily. He saw Frank out, watching for a few moments as he rounded the hallway and disappeared out of sight. 

 

“What did I just watch?” Foggy blurted.  “Matt? That's the guy you told me about---the one who broke your heart and left you? Like, literally left you? In the *woods*?!”

 

“I never said he broke my heart.” Matt began digging through his side of their shared closet, tossing a few pairs of pants on the bed from over his shoulder. “Come on, man. If you really want to help, help me pick out an outfit.”

 

Foggy slapped his forehead. “And now you are dressing up for him?? Matt, do you hear yourself?”

 

Matt let out a groan of exasperation, clutching a light blue dress shirt in his hands. “It's hard to explain. It’s… I've never felt this way about anyone before, Fog.”

 

“Dude.  You're 22. You haven't  _ lived _ long enough to feel this way about anyone ‘before’.”

 

Matt ignored him, holding up the shirt. “Is this a good color on me?”

 

“Matt, man, you really need to re-think----”

 

“I said is this a good color??!!”

 

Foggy let out a defeated sigh before crouching on the floor beside him, taking the top in question to inspect it. “It's perfect, Matt.” He offered him a small but genuine smile.  “Blue is a great color on you.”

 

Matt offered a knowing smirk his way. “Thanks, Fog. “

 

“Yeah, yeah. Just know this---if he ever hurts you again, I don't care how tough he thinks he is, I will break him.”

 

Matt chuckled. “I'd expect nothing less.”

  
  


* * * * *

 

Turns out, apartments in Hell’s Kitchen didn’t come cheap or easy. Thanks to Frank’s lengthy and successful (if sometimes morally questionable) service in the Marines, money was no object. He was mildly trepidatious at the thought of going from the backwoods of a sparsely populated cow-town to the hustle and craziness that was major city living, but it was well worth the effort. 

 

He’d found a nice studio on the top floor of a building just three blocks from the college and moved in the next day. He didn’t have much-a few suitcases of clothes, a small tv, and enough ammunition to run the LAPD for ten years. He’d seen the hatch to the rooftop shed and spent a day digging a deep enough trench to fit all the “provisions”. Just in case. 

 

He’d have been perfectly comfortable with one of the abandoned warehouses bordering the Potomac, but this wasn’t “for” him. Matt’s comfort came first. 

 

“Wow,” Matt murmured, stretching his hand along the wall just like he’d done that night at the cave. 

 

“Let me take your coat,” Frank offered, the phrase sounding oddly domesticated coming from his lips. 

 

As Matt slipped the wool trench coat from his shoulders, Frank opened the closet door and gave Matt a short run-down of the place. 

 

Matt tapped his foot and smiled. “Marble floors? Frank you’ve really done well for yourself.” 

 

“There’s more,” Frank said. He tried but it was hard to keep his excitement in check. “There’s a full balcony. And...oh, bathroom’s in here,” he muttered, flicking on the light as a forethought. 

 

“I know,” Matt said matter-of factly.

 

“And check this out.” Frank took Matt’s hand in his, his large fingers curling around the kid’s. He gave them a reassuring squeeze as he pulled him along the back corridor. The hallway was tight, but what it led to made it all worth it. Frank grasped a small handle at the end of the hall and pulled it open. Two doors simultaneously slid open, disappearing into the decorative brick wall to reveal a spacious bedroom with a full skylight. 

 

“It seems beautiful,” Matt muttered, his gaze distracted by the presence of a massive bed.

 

Frank immediately felt the heat rush to his face. “Uh. S-sorry….uhm. Dinner’s probably ready.”

 

Frank felt foolish for not having asked Matt what he liked. During their trip together, it had mostly been road food. Matt had told him he was vegan, and Frank had absolutely know idea what vegans could eat. He’d gone to the local farmer’s market and plucked through a few cookbooks, stumbling on a recipe for tofu meatballs and deciding he’d give it a go. 

 

Frank made regular meatballs for himself, as bloody and rare as possible. Most Were’s diets consisted of raw or undercooked animal protein with a small amount of vegetables. Frank decided to hide this fact, but the way Matt wrinkled his nose when he sat down at the small but well-manufactured dining set pretty much said it all. 

 

“It’s mine,” Frank admitted. “Promise.” 

 

Matt smiled shyly as he gathered some of the spaghetti on his fork. “It’s fine. Another one of those “wolf” things?”

 

“You could say that.” 

 

Matt bit down on his lip and suddenly Frank was having a hard time concentrating. The gorgeous, wonderful redhead was back in his universe again and Frank could barely contain his joy.  He felt stupid for being so giddy, dumber still for not being able to mask it, and Matt seemed cuter than ever in that little blue sweater. He cursed himself inwardly for such dirty thoughts, and took a huge gulp of meat. 

 

“I-I guess I missed something,” Matt murmured. 

 

Frank raised his head, jamming one cheek full to reply,  “Whatd'you mean?”

 

“What brought you all the way to New York?”

 

Frank blinked. The sweet little thing didn't get it,  searching Frank's face with that beautiful almost-there stare,  absentmindedly twirling more noodles onto his fork. Frank let out a soft laugh. He should have expected that.  

 

“You,” he replied huskily. 

 

Matt looked away,  crossing his legs beneath the tablecloth Frank had found at some thrift shop downtown.  “I didn't even say goodbye.” 

 

“Nah you didn't.  That's okay. I didn't expect it.” 

 

Matt flinched and that's when Frank realized that last part may have come out too strongly. He let out a bitter huff, creasing his napkin over and over in his hands, not so much folding it as trying to ball it into the tiniest was possible. “Look,  Frank. Thanks for dinner and everything. Your place is nice, but… “

 

_ Oh god _ . Frank felt the violent flutter of panic being let loose in his chest.  He'd come on too strong. He was scaring him. He dropped his fork, holding a hand out in front of himself to stop Matt's train of thought. “Hey.  Hey, it's okay. You don't have to say another word.”

 

Matt’s eyelashes fluttered, letting loose a bit of that firey nature that had been locked deep inside.  “I mean, exactly what did you think was going to happen here?”

 

It was Frank's turn to get defensive. “Nothin'.  I already told you, Red. I don't expect shit from you.  You don't owe me nothin’.”

 

“ _ Anything _ ,” Matt corrected under his breath.  

 

Frank ignored it. “You do what you do, Matt.  I'm just going to be here doing what I do.”

 

Matt gave him an incredulous glare. “And what is that,  Frank? You're hermit. A weird-ass, forest-dwelling recluse. Not to mention you're a---a----you know!” Matt huffed. “People like  _ you _ hate the city.”

 

Frank raised an eyebrow, repeating, “People like me?” He folded his arms in front of his chest,  leaning back in the chair. It whined beneath his weight. “Please, Murdock. Enlighten me. What the fuck do you know about “people like me”?”

 

“Never mind,” Matt murmured, getting up. “This was just not a good idea.”  

 

Frank gestured to the barely-touched dinner before them. “What,  this?”

 

“All of it,” Matt shot back as he side towards the coat closet.  Throwing the door open wide, he felt along the fabrics and yanked his jacket down, slipping into it as he started for the door. Frank followed close behind.  

 

He was being a goddamned stalker,  and he knew it, but what was he supposed to do? He was further along in years.  He’d been-there-done-that with the whole relationship thing. He'd never imprinted on anyone. What this was was so much stronger than anything he'd ever felt before.  He was certain that if Matt left in that moment that he might as well take Frank’s ability to breathe right along with him. 

 

He grabbed the door over Matt’s head as it opened, promptly slamming it shut. Matt spun around, his eyes fearlessly burning into Frank's. He folded his arms over his chest and ground out “What?!”

 

Frank cupped the side of his face, his fingers reaching up into those feathery bags callused knuckles sweeping across Matts heated cheek. “I understand,” he whispered in the gentlest voice he knew how. “And I don't care where you go, what you do.  I just want you to know, if you need me, I'm going to be right here. I'm not going nowhere, Red. This is us now. This is permanent.”

 

Matt’s dissolve crumbled as tears sprang up behind his dark framed glasses. “You never came,” he choked out mid-sob. “I waited and you never showed up. After a few weeks, I thought… I thought that was it,  you know?”

 

Frank searched his face. “Never came for you…? I never left, sweetheart. I was at that back gate every night freezing my tail off waitin for you. Every night, sweetheart. I didn't miss once.”

 

“I know,” Matt shrugged. “But you never came for me in the daylight. I just… I wasn’t ready to see you like that.  Couldn't get my head around it, you know? That wolf… the one I met, the one that saved me in the woods… he was my friend.”

 

“C'mere,“ Frank groaned, a soothing rumble ebbing up from deep within his chest. He grabbed Matt tight, pulling him against his chest and leading his ear to the divot between his pectorals. “You hear that,  Red? That's his heart. The wolf and the man, we’re one in the same. We’re both here, hun. And we’re both gonna make sure nothing happens to you. You have my word on that.”

 

Matt shivered a little as Frank's arms encompassed him, flattening his head against his built form and sighing as he listened to the gentle thrum of the heart that beat within.  

 

* * * * *

 

Matt began with small, experimental kisses, drinking in the taste and the fullness of Frank’s. His fingers fluttered across his face, and he let out a shaky laugh as Frank groaned and flattened their mouths together. “Scratchy,” Matt cooed, rubbing the stubble as he slowly pulled away. 

 

“Sorry,” Frank rasped, trailing little bite marks down Matt’s exposed throat. His hands were wide enough to encompass the whole of Matt’s slight waist as he straddled the bigger man, legs spread over his muscular lap. “Been kinda busy.”

 

“I like it.” 

 

Matt returned to focusing on the chiseled features of Frank's face, tracing that beautiful broken nose and making laps around both of his earlobes. “Mmmh, Frank?”

 

The man beneath him stilled just slightly, unable to pull his mouth away from Matt’s satiny skin. “Yeah?”

 

“Can-Can I “see” you?”

 

Frank chuckled. “Not this again. Baby, you’re “seeing” me right _now_ … “

 

Matt pushed off him,  separating their top halves just enough to stare down into Frank’s eyes. His face glowing bright red,  he bashfully reiterated “No. I mean, can I  _ see you _ ?”

 

The bulge in Frank's pants twitched expectantly between them. “You… you sure?”

 

Matt nodded, daring to drop his hand lower on Frank’s ribcage. Every inch of the man seemed stacked with muscle. Frank let out a sound that seemed like a whimper as he squirmed again between Matt's spread thighs. 

 

“Yeah. Of course, sweetheart. Anything I got, it's yours.”

 

Matt hesitated at Frank's belt buckle. “What about..  What about Billy?”

 

“Billy is history,” Frank swore. “That's way in the past.” He drew reassuring circles around Matt’s shoulders,  drawing him in for a gentle kiss. “Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Matt said, flicking the buckle open with a sigh. He caressed the rough jean material on top of the impressive bulge, smiling a little when Frank rolled his hips and his head back simultaneously. There was absolutely no room left. Whatever Frank was packing, it was large and painfully hard and Matt couldn't wait to get his hands on it. 

 

“Jesus-fuck, kid, you're going to be the death of me,” Frank groaned helplessly. 

 

Matt stole an experimental little kiss as he dug into Frank's open fly, etching the tip of his nails down the fleshy package trapped beneath a pair of boxer briefs. Frank swallowed a dry gasp as Matt worked his way around it, enveloping the thick organ as it throbbed. Matt touched something wet and let out a surprised giggle. “Excited?”

 

Frank's response was a fistful of Matt’s hair as he dragged him down for a hungry kiss. 

 

Matt hadn't ever played with anyone's but his own,  but he was pretty sure Frank was on the abnormally large side. The engorged veins were detectable even beneath the fabric, a copious amount of precome making its way through and wetting the front of his shorts. 

 

Here was this huge, hulking beast of a man reduced to a pile of fluids and helpless whimpers just by Matt’s touch. It was fascinating.  Matt had dreamt of this moment since that first kiss, and he'd figured on being at least a little scared. There was nothing scary about it at all--Frank was helpless; putty couldn't have been more pliable. 

 

Matt anchored himself on the end of Frank’s knees and pulled down the elastic waistband, setting him free.  He sprang out hot and thick with a dry gasp, Frank’s hands pawing at Matt's much smaller chest in a silent, helpless plea. 

 

The head of his cock was wet warm and satiny, fresh slick gushing out from his large slit. Matt inserted a thumbnail, experimentally swirling it around in Frank's own juices as the man under him begged and squirmed. 

 

“Red---nnngg ---ah shit. Please…”

 

“Please what?” Matt asked innocently, his intricate fingers wrapping around his shaft and giving him a quick squeeze. 

 

Frank sobbed, sucking in his bottom lip as his legs began to shake. “ _ Fuck _ . You sure you ain't done this before?”

 

Matt devoted time to working a slow, steady rhythm, listening to Frank's heart bang against his ribcage. It was nothing like doing it to himself.  Watching Frank on the absolute edge of losing it intrigued him as much as it amazed him, slowing down when it got too much, speeding up just when Frank thought he'd caught his breath.  

 

The older man’s caresses turned into a vice like grip,  angling himself upward as Matt switched hands, travelling lower to explore the contours of Frank’s balls. They were already drawing up tight, puffy and full and hot between Frank's knees. 

 

Suddenly, a hand slid to Matt’s fly and Frank drew him out in two quick motions. “Two can play at this game, sweetie,” he rasped in Matts ear. 

 

Matt was losing ground, and fast. Frank's hand was thick and rough and so unlike his own that the slightest touch made Matt want to come. He whimpered against Frank’s open mouth as the bigger man rutted against him,  the heat of their bodies mingling midair, setting goosebumps along Matt’s skin. 

 

“Let me see you,” Frank groaned. They worked together, rather impatiently,  to tug off the flimsy dress shirt. As soon as Frank caught side of those pretty pink nipples,  he gathered one into his mouth with a possessive growl. 

 

The sensation of Frank nursing on his tits made his dick bob suddenly, a fountain of his own slick springing to life. Frank's teeth scraped along the stiff nub as Matt buried his nails in Frank’s scalp, sucking it good and red as he battered it with his with his tongue. 

 

“Christ, baby boy, you are so beautiful.”

 

It was Matt’s turn to squirm, the stimulation of both his nipples and his eager little cock at the same time becoming too much to bear. “Mmmmmh… Frank. St-stop. I’m… I'm gonna…”

 

“Do it, sweetheart,” Frank ordered around Matt's sore peak, picking up pace with the fist buried between Matt’s legs. 

 

The wet sound of Frank mercilessly jerking him off made his toes curl. His balls drew up, a thicker stream of precome suddenly spurting out. Matt felt humiliated as it landed on Frank's jean-clad thigh. 

 

“That's okay, baby. Don't you worry. Don't you think about that.”

 

Frank's orders were so easy to obey. Before Matt even had the chance to think them over, the negative thoughts were on their way out, leaving only that guttural, velveteen voice edging him on and the sensation of a powerful fist wrapped around his dick jack-hammering away. 

 

“MMmmhh!!” Matt saw actual sparks of light behind his tightly closed eyes as he rocketed forward on Frank's lap. He rode the convulsions as his come splashed out in little spurts,  coating Frank's clenched abdomen. 

 

“Oh,  that's it sweetheart,” Frank cooed, slowing his rhythm as the last of Matt's seed sputtered out, peppering little kisses all over his flat, freckled chest. “Just look at you, baby. Such a good boy.”

 

Matt didn't know quite what the words meant; his brain was still scrambling to recover, clinging to Frank for dear life as he rode out the spasms. “S-sorry about your pants,” he offered shyly. 

 

Frank kissed him and kissed him again, nuzzling his crooked nose into the crook of Matt’s neck. “That was amazing,” he praised. 

 

“Wh-what about you?” Matt flicked a thumb over Frank’s painfully hard center, smoothing the glossy mixture of his come with Franks precome down the length of Frank's frenulum. 

 

Frank shivered.  “Mmmng… what  _ about _ me?”

 

“Well… what do you and Billy do?”

 

Frank shook his head slowly against Matt’s lips,  gently pushing Matt’s hand away. “Nah. We don’t have to do that yet.  That's not what this is about.”

 

Matt’s eyelids fluttered, confusion breaking through his sated drowse. “Wh-what do you mean? Frank,  just minutes ago you were practically begging me to stay.”

 

Frank’s tongue flicked out anxiously across his lips. “I know. But I don't want you to think--”

 

“Don't presume to know what I think, “ Matt interjected,  scowling. “Enough of this running back and forth thing.” He reached up into the tight curls on Frank’s head, pulling him forward again, courage building in his chest as he flattened their mouths together. Frankly didn't hesitate to surge forward with a possessive groan, grabbing Matt by both shoulders as he hauled him up from the couch. As if he weighed nothing.  

 

“Fuck, baby… “

 

As Frank carried him to the bedroom, Matt curled his arms around Frank's thick neck and couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh. “We married now? Is that it?”

 

Frank chuckled back. “Maybe.”

 

Matt had always assumed his first time would be with a girl. It stood to reason since he'd only ever dated girls before and even those never got this serious.  It seemed Frank was changing everything about him---or maybe, just uncovering what had been there all along. 

 

Matt took his time exploring every contour of Frank’s chest as he peeled off his shirt above him. The happy jingle of dog tags and the feel of softly raised scars sent shivers through him. Already he was back to standing. Frank made sure he was the one completely naked first,  and Matt couldn't help but think that was on purpose. He wanted to be the vulnerable one, exposed to every touch and kiss Matt offered. His scent was enough to drive him insane. Matt’s caresses delved lower, and the heat returned to his face as he memorized the weight and the size of Frank’s cock as it bobbed between his muscular legs. Matt knew where this was leading, and he couldn't help but feel a little trepidation over how all “that” was going to fit inside of him.  

 

As if reading his mind, Frank caressed his face as he flattened him gently to the plush coverings beneath then.  “Shh sweetheart. It's okay. I'll make you feel good. You want to stop, we’ll stop. Okay?”

 

“No,” Matt insisted between hungry kisses. “Don’t stop. I-I wanna…” he was suddenly so dizzy with need that he surprised himself a little when he blurted out,  “I want to… feel you in me.”

 

“Okay… “ Frank's voice drifted into a lusty moan as he gripped the pants that had bunched around Matts hips,  helping along as Matt wiggled out. Frank sank his teeth into Matt’s damp boxer-briefs without warning, the younger man letting out a surprised giggle as he worked them down and off.  

 

He landed on top of him, free of the restrictions of clothing, only the cool shock of his dog tags tracing along Matt’s pale skin. With an authoritative grunt, he buried his face in Matt’s small chest, nibbling at each freckle like a starving man.  He gathered each nipple between his lips and hollowed out his cheeks for a good suck. They were wet and naked, rubbing together and Matt had never felt so inadequate in his life. Frank was so much larger, so much harder, and yet it was Matt that was, once again, nearing the edge.

He squirmed away, bending a knee to separate them. “Nngg… Frank… no more, I'm gonna…”

 

“Fuck,  baby, already?” Frank sounded amused. 

 

Matt looked away, fighting a nervous grin. 

 

“You want something else?”

 

Matt nodded, and instantly Frank's pheromones kicked up,  choking the air of the room and dragging Matt down with them. 

 

“Spread your legs.”

 

It was a dark, guttural command, one that Matt gladly obeyed, parting his knees as Frank rested his hips between them. Frank swiped his fingers through the remainder of the mess that Matt made on his stomach, dipping his hand down between them until it disappeared. 

 

The roaming fingers made their way between Matt's ass cheeks and he stiffened a little at the intrusion.  If Matt’s senses were to be trusted, Frank was staring down at him, unblinking, watching every expression as he pressed on.  Around Matt’s rim, his wide, calloused thumb gently circled, massaging his puckered entrance. “Is this okay?” Frank murmured, his voice suddenly gaining back some concern.  

 

“Nuh-uh” Matt murmured, shaking his head. Before Frank could withdraw he followed it up with a playful smirk. “More.”

 

Frank let out a breathy chuckle.  “Dirty boy…” The probing digit pushed forward, opening Matt up ever so slightly. Covered in his own precome, it was anything but painful, and Matt wiggled down onto the intrusion with a little sigh.  Frank was gentle--too gentle--and Matt was getting impatient. 

 

Frank added another finger, sliding in with a little more force and Matt’s hips bucked upwards as he began moving inside.  It was intruding and embarrassing and incredible all at once. Frank flattened himself on top of him with a groan, throwing Matt’s legs wide and rutting his giant cock between them. 

 

“You like this baby? You like it when I fuck you with my hands?”

 

“Mmmh…” Matt nodded weakly, all play gone out of him in a wave of sheer ecstasy. He should have been embarrassed. This was dirty, this was wrong, but none of those thoughts seemed to hold a candle to the fact that it felt fucking amazing.  “Fuck--Frank… please… “ Matt wasn't sure what he was begging for. The two digits working their way in and out of him we're rubbing him raw and opening him up and everything itched in places he couldn't scratch but what should have hurt just felt too good and not enough at the same time. 

 

“You sure?”

 

Matt hit his chest weakly with a whimper and Frank laughed. The fingers left and Matt’s hole collapsed, wet and sore and empty. The feeling of loss was almost too much to take.  This one thing that he'd never before experienced suddenly seemed impossible to go without. 

 

Frank's wide, plush mouth was back as he crushed their bodies together, the dog tags now heated by their skin flattened between them. Matt let out a small, muffled cry as Frank thrust forward and opened Matt’s used hole with his throbbing head. “Shh,  shh, baby. I know. Thin walls. We gotta be quiet.” The pressure and the heat increased as Frank groaned, burying his shaft into the boy. Matts head flew back to the pillow. He was being split in two. He squirmed and cried against Frank’s feverish kisses, his entrance fluttering against the new sensation.  

 

Frank rolled his head back with a groan, gripping the headboard above Matt’s head as he switched angles. He rose up over Matt, one hand at the small of his back, bending him backwards in half as he began a slow rhythm. 

 

The pain subsided as quickly as it had come, Matts little entrance squeezing down around Frank as he adjusted,  driving deeper inside. Frank’s thumb invaded Matt’s mouth, muffling his cries as his thrusting climbed higher. 

 

Matt’s dick slapped against Frank’s stomach, tickled by the dusting of hair there. He was quickly reaching the end. 

 

Frank felt bigger than he looked--taking up every centimeter of available space inside of him, filling him to burst and stretching his exhausted hole as he bared down on top of him.  “Fuck… Red… so… so tight…”

 

Matt bit Frank’s thumb freely, payback for quieting him, as Frank reached a place inside of Matt that had those stars returning behind his eyes. “Mmmh!” He let out an undignified squeak, going rigid as Frank mercilessly battered against the spot. “What… what is that?”

 

“Fuck you really are a virgin,” Frank laughed breathlessly.  “That’s your sweet spot, baby.” He gathered Matts legs around his waist, pulling them both forward on the bed and burying himself to the hilt, expanding Matt’s poor little hole and jamming upwards into the soft mound inside of him.

 

Matt felt it in his belly, impaled on Frank’s massive cock as he came hard, his dick sputtering a stream of thick white fluid all over Frank’s wide chest. He convulsed beneath him, gasping for air as pleasure scattered through his system.  “Ah! Frank… mmmmh!!!”

 

Frank became a drill after that, jack-hammering Matt’s insides and milking him dry hard and fast and hungrily, letting out a guttural groan as he,  too, came to completion. His cock twitched deep inside Matt, filling him with instantaneous warmth as he spilled his seed, coating his walls until it leaked out around him. He growled over Matt, using the headboard as leverage to remain upright as he seized. 

 

A final wave overcame him as he shoved forward,  seating himself deep inside the boy, jumbled words of praise tumbling from his lips. 

 

They stayed that way for a few breathless moments,  panting and staring into each other's eyes as Frank slowly went soft inside of him.  “Wow,” Matt finally whispered. 

 

Frank offered him a tired, contented smile. “Wow yourself.”

 

Matt had thoroughly enjoyed the act,  but was not so keen on the cleanup. He excused himself, using the wall to make his way to the bathroom until his legs could carry him again.  He washed up quickly. Frank softly knocked on the door. 

 

“I got you a… I got you some pajamas. I hope they're your size.”

 

Matt cracked the door open with an impish grin as he chided, “Wow,  that's not creepy at all.”

 

Frank shrugged,  scrubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah.well, I--”

 

“They're perfect,” Matt interjected. “Thank you.”

 

Frank was still naked when Matt joined him back in bed, the fresh new pajamas being a perfect fit, even if the bottoms were a little long.  Matt gave him a quizzical look before crawling beneath the blankets with him, into his massive arms. 

 

“It's almost time,” Frank sighed.  

 

That was right! Matt had forgotten all about it.  “Uhm… so I thought you could turn it “off”?”

 

“Not sure what you mean,  Red.”

 

“Well, last time, when you came to New York with me, you must have had a way to stop it or something? Remember, that night with the gang?”

 

“That wasn't a gang,” Frank corrected.  “And unfortunately, there isn't a way to turn it “off”. I had a friend give me something.  But it's really for emergency use only.”

 

Matt frowned. “So, you have to change tonight?”

 

Frank pulled Matt tighter with a sigh, nibbling a few kisses beneath his ear. “Tonight and every night.”

 

“Where… where are you going to go?” Matt could only imagine what the headlines would look like if a gigantic wolf was found rampaging through the city streets.  

 

“I have a place in mind,” Frank said. There was a sly smile in his tone.

 

“You going to take me with you?”

 

Frank paused, as if for a moment he was considering a reason as to why not to let Matt come along. Matt waited until finally Frank piped up. “Sure.”

 

Matts eyebrows flew up. “Really?”

 

“Yeah, Red.  Of course. No place safer for you than wherever I am. “

 

Matt let out a playful huff, softly elbowing Frank in the side. “I can hold my own.”

 

“Fine then,” Frank snorted, hunkering further down into the plush blanket to squirm impossibly closer to Matt. “You protect me. ”

 

Matt let out a snicker.  “I’'ll probably have to.” He snuggled closer into Frank's heat with a happy moan.

 

* * * * *

 

He wasn’t sure watching Frank change was something he’d ever get used to. It was the sound of snapping bone and twisting sinew more than the actual transformation. It took less than twenty seconds for the transformation to be complete, and soon Matt was staring in the direction of a canine figure that dwarfed the small balcony and breathed smoke into the chilly midnight air. The snow had already begun to fall, coming down in light flakes and softly blanketing the ground. In a few short weeks it’d be winter. Matt shivered as he pulled his wool coat on over the fuzzy pajamas, and Frank turned around with a snort, gesturing to his back. 

 

Matt climbed atop, grabbing hold of the tall hackles for leverage. He didn’t know where they were going--couldn’t exactly squeeze down the fire escape--but it was excitement and not fear that caused his heart to flutter. 

 

“Hold on tight,” Frank gruffed in an inhuman tone as he hopped onto the railing. Matt hooked his feet into the heavy fur of Frank’s sides, feeling his belly swell with air as he took a deep breath...and jumped. 

 

It was almost like flying. Matt wondered if he’d feel the least bit afraid if he could actually see the busy life blurring by dozens of stories below. He flattened himself to Frank’s back, his ear perfectly nestled between his enormous shoulder blades, feeling the air rush by as they scaled the buildings. The rooftops were empty for the most part, snow-covered and flat, and Frank maneuvered them like a shadow, darting around the sheds and water towers and swooping around corners with the grace and silence of a cat. 

 

For just a moment, Matt could forget about how crazy this all seemed, and the tragedy that had brought him to this point. For the shortest amount of time, nothing had to make sense. This was like actually living a dream, so much so that the line between reality and fiction had blurred to an unrecognizable point. What remained was what Matt felt in his heart to be true; the wolves were another side to an unknown world, and Matt was part of it. But he no longer had to face it alone. 

 

* * * * *

 

Trag was only in highschool when he was inducted into the Castle Clan. His parents approved. Frank was a strong, fair leader with respect for the wolves and humans of Ypsieck alike, and they said Trag needed that. 

 

He was a bit of a wild card, perhaps more than the town could handle. Over the centuries, Ypsieck had gone from a dense wolf population of 89% to a meager 45%. The alphas grew weaker every year and the damned Elders only encouraged it, with the majority of the Clans adopting a no-kill policy in regards to humans. They had turned their backs on their basic instincts, the same thing that they were born and bred to do! 

 

Castle was just like the rest, a peace-loving pussywillow. Made every member take an oath to stick with game animals and the occasional stray cow. A war had been brewing for years now, with Billy seeking to remedy that agreement. And why the hell not? Every other Clan member wanted it. If outsiders started sniffing around because of the disappearances, so what? They’d take care of them, too. 

 

Then Martha Murdock opened her fat mouth, and all hell was about to break loose. Once she started sniffing around in places she didn’t belong, it became clear to everybody what exactly needed to happen. Everybody, that is, except the big man himself. Castle was vehemently against it--and no amount of reasoning was going to change his mind. Even when Billy threatened to leave him. (He’d already lost his wife and there wasn’t another living soul around willing to fuck him, but apparently even that wasn’t enough. Not even this one time. Not even for the sake of Ypseick.) 

 

In the end, it was Frank that did the leaving, probably spurred on by the fact that he knew Billy wasn’t one to be controlled. 

 

Suited Trag just fine. Billy was more alpha than Frank any day. He still couldn’t figure out why Billy let Frank fuck him all those years. Probably cuz he felt sorry for him. Trag chuckled at this thought.     

 

“What are you laughing about?,” Billy sneered as they made their way to the front desk. 

 

“Nothin’ boss,” he muttered. In all honesty, he’d hoped that once Billy went apeshit after discovering Frank’s cabin empty and torching the place into a crunchy crisp, he’d let things go. After all, Billy finally had everything he wanted; the land, the clan, and the right to eat any fleshie unfortunate enough to set foot on clan soil. 

 

“Good evening, gentlemen,” The desk manager greeted blandly. Billy never did go cheap--Trag had never been in a place so nice. He grinned up at the chandelier looming over their heads--it was just as big as the lobby itself. 

 

Whatever Billy needed, Trag was his right-hand man. With Castle out of the way, it’d afforded him extra time to get up close and comfy with the dangerously handsome brunet. So of course, when Billy told Trag about his hair-brained plan, he said yes. The others would be fine back home for awhile, and it'd be fun to prance around in his meat suit for a weekend. Claire had been... “ever so kind”... when they “politely” asked for the magic little pills, even going so far as to warn them about side effects stemming longer than three night’s use. Whatever, Trag thought. With any luck, they’d be here for two nights, max. Of course--he doubled back, patting the gun on his hip beneath his trenchcoat-- they really didn’t need luck.     

 

“One balcony room, two queen beds,” The man at the desk read off the computer. Trags’ heart sank a little. He’d hoped--maybe stupidly--that he could manage to get a little more friendly with his fearless, fair-faced leader. Maybe comfort him in his time of need by tapping that perfect, juicy, round little a--

 

“Stop staring idiot,” Billy grumbled, shoving the room key at Trag’s chest. With a grin on his face like the lost dog he was, Trag nodded and followed him down the hall to the elevators. 

 

“Hope it’s a room with a view,” Trag murmured to no one in particular, keeping his eyes glued to Billy’s lower half and that confident, deadly strut. 

 

* * * * * 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  



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